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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25605550">In Your Orbit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantlyStories/pseuds/ConstantlyStories'>ConstantlyStories</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Gravitational [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hollow Knight (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, Other, because a certain someone is not jumping into the fckn lake, technically a romantic retelling but the romance real low-key, this game hurt me and continues to hurt me so i'm projecting onto my favs ok</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:01:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>38,931</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25605550</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantlyStories/pseuds/ConstantlyStories</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For two travelers who are never in one place for long, friends are hard to make and even harder to keep. Relationships are built with the understanding that they won't last, and at the end of the day, they'll continue on their journey alone. </p><p>Meeting once was a novelty. Twice, a pleasant surprise. Three times can't easily be passed off as a coincidence. All the times after that? No matter how their paths diverge, they'll keep finding each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Knight &amp; Quirrel (Hollow Knight), The Knight/Quirrel (Hollow Knight)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Gravitational [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862644</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>252</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was supposed to be a oneshot. A stupidly fluffy and self-indulgent oneshot that I just needed to get out of my system so I can work on other things. Now it's 9k and climbing and idk how that happened. </p><p>Also, just a disclaimer, I am a firm believer that the knight is very much not a child despite being vertically challenged. Not that this is intending to be horrifically shippy, but I feel I just need to throw that out there</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            When Quirrel first met them, Ghost nearly gave him a heart attack.</p>
<p>            After a less than cheery meander through Dirtmouth and then a tense walk through the Crossroads, Quirrel found the Temple of the Black Egg to be a welcome respite. It was gloomy in its own way (the heavy atmosphere and sickly-sweet smell that clung to the air around it didn’t help), but it was still a marvelous mystery to behold. The first of many, Quirrel was certain, and he was later proven right.</p>
<p>            In fact, an equally fascinating mystery had wandered into the Temple without him noticing until he happened to glance at the door.</p>
<p>            Quirrel did not think himself to be easily surprised, but it was safe to say he was caught off guard when he realized someone was standing hardly a step away.</p>
<p>            The little creature beside him looked up impassively, mask reflecting no emotion or thought. It stood incredibly still and did not speak, even when Quirrel offered greetings. To be truthful, he wasn’t sure exactly how aware the little thing was. It carried a nail, but so did some of the undead husks that wandered outside. Not that he thought the being beside him was infected to that extent (he didn’t see any traces of infection aside from the orange that stained their cloak), but he wasn’t sure how else to think of it.</p>
<p>            Still, he had the impression that it was listening when he told it what he knew about the Black Egg, and it appeared to still be listening when he went on to talk about his passage through Dirtmouth.</p>
<p>            Though its presence disturbed him a bit, Quirrel could appreciate a good listener.</p>
<p>            Then, the strange little traveler departed as swiftly and silently as it had arrived, leaving Quirrel to wonder about the curious encounter.</p>
<p>            While he was in the Temple (it really was a fascinating discovery) the masked traveler wandered in three more times.</p>
<p>            The first of its three return journeys was just as strange as their initial meeting; it appeared by Quirrel’s side, nearly as if it materialized out of nowhere, and then it was gone just as quickly.</p>
<p>            When they returned a second time, Quirrel decided they were as sapient as he was. They stopped in, startling him again (how did they walk so silently?), but that time, they waved one small hand at him.</p>
<p>            Unsure of how else to respond to the gesture, Quirrel waved back.</p>
<p>            This seemed to please them. The little thing took a seat on the bottom step of the Temple and remained there for a time before returning to whatever they were doing back in the Crossroads. They waved to him again before departing.</p>
<p>            The third time, Quirrel asked for their name. They didn’t give him one, but he was beginning to suspect that their silence had more to do with an inability to make noise than anything else.</p>
<p>            How curious.</p>
<p>            After pausing beside Quirrel for a moment, they ran a brief circuit around the Temple. It was unclear as to whether they accomplished whatever they’d set out to accomplish with the act, and they gave no indication one way or another when they again returned to Quirrel’s side. They waved again, and then, like before, ran off back into the Crossroads.</p>
<p>            Given they had been friendly (more like simply not aggressive, but to Quirrel, the two nearly meant the same thing), he would call them a friend. It was accurate enough and he had nothing else to call them.</p>
<p>            That being said, Quirrel didn’t really expect to see them again once he left the Temple.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            It was a coincidence that the second time Quirrel met them was in another sort of temple. The one in Greenpath was much smaller and less ornate, but he still had the impression that it had been used as a space of worship.</p><p>            The walk from the Crossroads had been a long one, and his nail saw more than its fair share of use along the way. He needed to see to the blade after all that and needed a relatively safe space to do so. For reasons unknown, Quirrel found the acid lake’s presence oddly comforting and was grateful for a chance to rest within its vicinity.</p><p>            He was pleasantly surprised when he looked up from tending to his nail and found that his small masked friend was standing beside him. He still nearly jumped out of his shell at their sudden appearance, but their company was welcome.</p><p>In Quirrel’s experience, friendly faces were few and far between, and it was rare to see the same one twice.</p><p>            Again, he found himself rambling a bit, unable to stop himself from commenting on his journey through Greenpath and then the structure the two rested within.</p><p>Again, they listened. Though they still didn’t speak or emote or otherwise try to communicate with him, he found their silence companionable. They updated a half-finished map and rearranged a small collection of charms while Quirrel continued to wipe the gore from his weapon.</p><p>            He was half through with the task when he noticed small globs of black floating up from what seemed to be a wound in the smaller being’s side. It was a strange sight, but Quirrel wasn’t sure how to address it, or if he even should. His small friend did not acknowledge the wound’s presence, and it did not seem to hinder them as they returned their charms to the depths of their cloak.</p><p>            “These caverns have proven to be perilous to those caught unaware,” Quirrel commented.</p><p>            The masked being looked at him.</p><p>            “You are more than welcome to rest here as long as you like. I believe this place to be as safe as one can be while in Hallownest.”</p><p>            They accepted the invitation, sitting quietly on the bench while Quirrel worked. They sat upright and did not particularly watch him or anything else in the room. They didn’t look like they were really resting, but when they eventually returned to their feet, their wound had closed and black (void) no longer escaped their shell.</p><p>            “Seeing as you’ve traveled this far, you must have some skill with the weapon you carry,” Quirrel found himself saying. “However, your nail seems to have lost its edge. I would advise you find one with a sharper blade if you intend to continue deeper into the kingdom.”</p><p>            The masked being tilted their head, considering for a moment. Then they raised their nail, aiming the point at Quirrel.</p><p>            Despite the threatening gesture, Quirrel did not feel he was in any danger. “Again, I do not question your ability,” he assured them. “Consider my suggestion only as friendly concern from a fellow traveler.”</p><p>            This seemed to placate them. They returned their nail to their back.</p><p>            “You departed before answering me the first time, so forgive me for asking a second, but do you have a name?”</p><p>            A pause. The being went still and did not reply (not that he really expected them to.)</p><p>            “Of course, yours is your own business. Regardless as to whether you give me a name, I will continue to call you a friend, if you don’t mind.”</p><p>            The being drew their nail and scratched a single word onto the stone bench. When finished, they nodded once and then headed out the door.</p><p>            Quirrel leaned over to see what they’d written.</p><p>            So, their name was Ghost. How fitting.</p><p>            Outside, the sound of fighting erupted by the lake.</p><p>            Not one to involve himself in the affairs of others, Quirrel remained where he was. Judging by the sound, Ghost had offered greetings to the bug by the lake and the encounter went as poorly as Quirrel had suspected it would (which was why he didn’t say hello himself). The conflict was soon over, having ended in Ghost’s favor. A few moments later, they returned to the bench.</p><p>            “I presume your meeting with the bug outside went about as well as I had predicted,” Quirrel said.</p><p>            Ghost nodded and Quirrel couldn’t help but note that it was the first time they’d given him a direct response.</p><p>            They didn’t stay long after that, again resting on the bench until they deemed themself fit to travel. When they left for good, they did so with a cheery wave before dashing out of sight.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            Quirrel found the descent through Fog Canyon more unsettling than he’d like to admit. All the way down, he felt like he was being torn in two: half of him wanted to continue exploring the depths of Hallownest and the other half felt like he was being dragged by his soul toward some unknown location in the Canyon.</p><p>            The resounding loneliness of the Queen’s Station made a fitting backdrop to his internal conflict. There was so much he didn’t understand about himself, and so much he seemed to understand about Hallownest. None of it made sense. Even as he sat at the edge of the platform and stared out into the abandoned station, he felt as though he could hear the bells as clearly as if the stagways still ran.</p><p>            He noticed Ghost’s arrival before they greeted him, but only because they had to drop down from one of the upper platforms in order to reach the one he was resting at.</p><p>            Quirrel found it hard to greet them with anything beyond a nod of acknowledgement. There was a reverent sorrow that filled the station as thickly as fog filled the Canyon, and the weight of it prevented him from speaking for a long time.</p><p>            Ghost didn’t seem to mind. They quietly sat beside him, not looking disappointed in the least at his somber mood, and Quirrel appreciated it. By then, he no longer found their presence to be so disturbing. Actually, he found their company oddly comforting. There was something reassuring about not being alone to bear witness to the empty remains of a once thriving kingdom.</p><p>            “The Crossroads have their charm and Greenpath its beauty, but I daresay that this station is the first remaining trace of Hallownest’s true former glory that I have seen so far,” he said after an immeasurable stretch of silence.</p><p>            Ghost tilted their mask toward him, listening.</p><p>            “It is quite something, to see such grandeur in such a state, isn’t it?” Quirrel continued. “The silence of this place rings louder than the spaces before. Perhaps it is because I can so plainly imagine how much life used to exist here. This used to be a hub of adventure, a crossroad for travelers from all over the kingdom. Now, only bugs such as you and I make use of it, and only for a moment’s respite. Despite the solemn nature, I find it a privilege to see such things.”</p><p>            Ghost gave a slow nod.</p><p>            Perhaps he was reading too much into the gesture, but Quirrel had the distinct feeling that they understood exactly what he was saying, that they too felt a heavy sort of sorrow weigh down their heart when they stepped into the abandoned station.</p><p>            More silence, though it was hard to describe it as such. It was a kind of audible silence, the echo of all the voices that were supposed to still be heard. What might it have been like, back when the kingdom still pulsed with life and activity? Just how many travelers had passed through the station before Ghost and Quirrel found it? How small they might’ve felt, standing amid the crowds, just two bugs (or whatever Ghost was) out of hundreds that had somewhere to get to.</p><p>            Ghost was the first to break the companionable stillness, silently getting to their feet. They looked at Quirrel for a long moment before nodding and then jumping down to the lower platform. Even when jumping that far, they made no noise when their feet hit the ground. They looked up briefly before running toward one of the marked passageways and then disappearing from view.</p><p>            In their absence, Quirrel found the station’s air of loneliness to be suffocating. He too decided to continue on his way.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Meeting Quirrel at the Queen's Station is probably one of my favorite encounters. There's something beautifully haunting about that place.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            Quirrel thought himself to be a friendly bug, though there were very few he truly considered to be friends. It was more a hazard of his lifestyle than anything else. When one traveled as much as he did and through such perilous lands, friendships were almost as hard to keep alive as the friends themselves.</p><p>            Quirrel realized that his calling Ghost ‘friend’ rang more true than intended when he met them again in the Mantis Village.</p><p>            The journey down had been grueling. Being uninfected, the mantises retained their sense and wit when fighting. Given they were some of the few bugs he’d met to remain untouched by the infection, he felt rather bad about striking them down, but they gave him little choice.</p><p>            He wound up in their village by mistake. Well, more like poor choices in direction when running away from two very angry mantis youths, but the details were irrelevant.</p><p>            Ghost’s sudden arrival at the village was both welcome and somewhat anxiety-inducing.</p><p>            “It’s good to see you again, though I must say, I’m not sure if I favor the circumstances,” Quirrel told them. “The mantises of this tribe are incredibly aggressive despite escaping infection. Then again, I suppose it’s understandable, given the bugs that live around them, and that’s not even speaking of what lies beyond the gate they guard.”</p><p>            Ghost tilted their head questioningly, and Quirrel realized he was expressing knowledge that he didn’t understand. He had no explanation for himself, let alone Ghost, but he’d already spoken, so he might as well roll with it.</p><p>            “The mantis lords are called such due to their fighting prowess. If you intend to face them below, you might want to find a better weapon.”</p><p>            At the suggestion, Ghost pointed their nail at him again. The edge of the blade seemed to be in even worse condition than it had been before, though the soul and infection that clung to the metal suggested it still made a lethal weapon.</p><p>            “The kingdom’s capitol city isn’t far from here,” Quirrel continued, ignoring the gesture. “I’m sure if you were to find a nailsmith left anywhere in this kingdom, you would find one there.” Even as he spoke, Quirrel noted that he could almost see the nailsmith’s face in his mind’s eye, though he wasn’t sure why he knew of him at all.</p><p>            Ghost lowered their nail in an exasperated gesture.</p><p>            “Forgive me for not wanting to see you die due to a malfunctioning weapon,” Quirrel joked. It was true, though. At that point, the idea of losing his strange wandering friend troubled him greatly. He was beginning to look forward to their meetings.</p><p>            Before Ghost could respond (and it looked like they were going to), the air was filled with the hum of a juvenile mantis’s wings. Sure enough, a few feet away, one took off from its perch on an overhanging ledge and darted toward the two travelers. It gave a shrill cry and dove at them, stinger first.</p><p>            Before Quirrel could even draw his blade, Ghost had leaped off the platform the two were standing on and swung their dull nail wildly at the approaching mantis. Though the weapon was better at crushing than cutting, it was effective in bringing down the mantis in a timely fashion.</p><p>            Ghost returned and looked pointedly at their nail and then back to Quirrel.</p><p>            “You’re quite stubborn,” he observed.</p><p>            They nodded.</p><p>            “If you insist on braving the Village before upgrading your weapon, I won’t stop you. It is, after all, your right to choose your own battles. Do be careful, though. I admit, I would very much like to see you again during my time here, and preferably while you are alive and in one piece.”</p><p>            Ghost went very still at that, and Quirrel wondered if he’d crossed some unspoken boundary. He was about to ask when Ghost took a few steps back and slashed their nail through the air several times. Up and down, then left and right, their blade was a silvery blur as they struck at imaginary enemies. They gestured to the downed mantis youth and nodded. They then pointed their nail at Quirrel and nodded again.</p><p>            Before Quirrel could comment on the oddly endearing display, they turned and headed deeper into the Village.</p><p>            Amused and somewhat still concerned, Quirrel decided that he too should move on. Though Deepnest lay just on the other side of the Village, he found himself wandering back the way he came. His conversation with Ghost brought the kingdom’s capitol to mind, and he found he very much wanted to see it before he braved the lower levels of Hallownest.</p><p>            That, and perhaps Ghost would follow his advice and seek the nailsmith. If so, he would most likely see them again in the City of Tears.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I was going to have each chapter be a single location, but this one felt like it would be better cut in two.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            The clanging elevator announced the arrival of someone, but Quirrel found it hard to focus on anything other than the conundrum before him. He’d finally reached Hallownest’s capitol city, and it was as breathtaking as he’d imagined it. Every room was steeped in the kind of decaying beauty and ancient grandeur that might be expected of such a kingdom.</p><p>            He wanted to continue exploring, to see more of the fabled land he’d traveled so far to find, but something kept him still. Was it fear? Decisively not. Fear was a familiar feeling, one that most travelers knew intimately well. Quirrel wasn’t above it, nor did he wish to be, but he knew himself well enough to know that his hesitance stemmed from a different source.</p><p>            So what invisible force prevented him from delving deeper into the city?</p><p>            Frustrated, he took the time to rest at a bench when he found one. The room was quite empty, save for that single feature, and it overlooked much of the city. Rain tapped a soothing rhythm against the glass window, and far below, he could make out the blurry forms of undead guards continuing their patrols.</p><p>            The elevator was loud, rusted gears creaking after the initial clash of metal against the lever. Quirrel only turned to make sure he wasn’t in danger when the thing all but crashed into the floor he was on.</p><p>            Ghost looked equally displeased with the sound and motion as they stumbled into the room. They perked up when they saw Quirrel, offering a wave as they made a beeline for the bench.</p><p>            “I see you survived the mantises,” Quirrel observed, moving aside so they had more room to sit.</p><p>            It took a moment for them to scramble onto the metal surface (they were so short, their legs dangled). They simply stared in response to Quirrel’s comment.</p><p>            “We’re in the heart of Hallownest, my friend. This city is the largest in the kingdom, home to the wealthier of Hallownest’s citizens. If you look closely, I believe you can see some of them wandering the streets below, still protected by guards who remember their duties even in death.”</p><p>            Ghost stared out the window. They were so still, Quirrel wondered if they were breathing.</p><p>            “If you intend to head further into the city, I’d offer a word of caution: though dead, the armored bugs that patrol these streets recall more than just their assigned routes. They are still skilled and experienced fighters, more so than any other you’ve faced above.”</p><p>            Given how they reacted the last time he expressed concern for their safety, Quirrel half expected to see the end of Ghost’s nail again. When they remained still, he glanced down to find them staring at him.</p><p>            “Yes?” Quirrel prompted when they made no move to interact.</p><p>            Ghost pointed at him and then to the city below.</p><p>            “I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what you’re asking of me.”</p><p>            Ghost put one hand to their head and dramatically looked around the room, miming a bug in search of something. Then they pointed again to Quirrel and the city.</p><p>            “You wish to know if I too plan on exploring the rest of the capitol?”</p><p>            A nod.</p><p>            “I do, though I admit that something has thus far prevented me from continuing.” Brought back to his original conflict, Quirrel frowned and looked back out the window. “It’s silly, really. After traveling so far and for so long, I am finally standing before the place I’d been searching for, and now that I’m here, I can’t bring myself to take a step further.” He sighed and looked back to Ghost. There was no need to bog them down with thoughts that effected no one outside himself. “You are quite the listener. I hope I’m not boring you with my senseless speculations.”</p><p>            They shook their head. After a pause, they gestured for him to keep talking.</p><p>            Quirrel couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “I promise I’m done complaining, for now. I do appreciate the gesture, though. Thank you.” Without thinking, he reached over and patted them on the head.</p><p>            At the first brush of his claws against their mask, Ghost flinched so hard they nearly fell off the bench.</p><p>            “Oh!” Quirrel withdrew just as quick. “Apologies, friend. I should have asked. I did not mean to offend.”</p><p>            Silence. Ghost stared at him for a moment before looking at the floor. It was impossible to discern what might be going through their head. Still seated more off the bench than on, it looked like they might run back to the elevator.</p><p>            Quirrel found the thought disappointing, though he didn’t blame them. It was his own thoughtlessness that disrupted the previously companionable atmosphere.</p><p>            Slowly, Ghost reanimated themself. They carefully resettled on the bench and then reached for Quirrel’s hand.</p><p>            Seeing as they didn’t look like they intended to bite it off, Quirrel let them.</p><p>            Their hands were so small compared to his own, tiny fingers running across his palm. They gently prodded at the joint of his wrist and inspected down the length of his fingers. They tested the blunt ends of his claws, seeming to compare them to their own.</p><p>            Quirrel watched without speaking. He found their fascination intriguing. Personally, he didn’t give much thought to a bug’s hands as long as his own could still hold a nail and another’s weren’t trying to kill him.</p><p>            Apparently satisfied with what they found, Ghost looked up at him and slowly directed his hand to rest on top of their head. That done, they looked up expectantly.</p><p>            “Please forgive my clumsy attempt at expressing affection,” he told them, patting them gently. “I did not mean to startle you.”</p><p>            Ghost looked like they forgave him, tilting their head to press harder against his hand.</p><p>            Quirrel made to pull away, but found small hands once again grasping his own, encouraging him to keep up the petting. He was happy to comply, though his thoughts went to how they’d flinched away before. “You’re not much used to kindness, are you,” he found himself saying.</p><p>            Ghost just shrugged.</p><p>            It brought to mind the question of where Ghost came from. In all his travels, Quirrel had never encountered anything like them before, and though he truly did consider them a friend, he knew so little about them. Why were they there? They didn’t seem like the kind to seek fame or fortune, so what other force drew them to the kingdom? Could it be the same that guided Quirrel? Hallownest was a big place; it couldn’t be mere coincidence that their paths had crossed so many times.</p><p>            When Quirrel next drew away, Ghost let him. They lingered on the bench for a while longer (longer than Quirrel was used to seeing them) before finally hopping down and returning to the elevator. They offered a slow wave before striking the lever with their nail.</p><p>            Admittedly, he was sad to see them go. Loneliness was the only companion a traveler could consistently rely upon, a fact that Quirrel knew but occasionally forgot the significance of. How long has it been since he’d seen the same friendly face so often? He couldn’t recall, though he knew his memory to be somewhat… selective.</p><p>            Again alone with his thoughts, Quirrel went back to staring out the window. Every time he tried to think more on why he was there or what so deeply unsettled him about the city, he lost focus, thoughts turning to fog until he couldn’t recall their direction. He supposed he should be used to it by then: most of his knowledge of Hallownest came from an unnamable source, and he’d been dreaming of the place long before he’d scaled the Howling Cliffs.</p><p>            For the first time in a while, he thought of Hallownest’s protector. He hadn’t seen her since their brief clash at the border. She seemed to agree that something beyond his own will was calling him to the kingdom, but that was all she’d said on the subject. Somehow, he thought that even if he were to see her again, she wouldn’t offer any more insight to his purpose there.</p><p>            Whatever mysterious force had him wandering the dead kingdom, he was on his own to find out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It makes me so happy that people seem to enjoy this fic. I've been having way too much fun writing it. <br/>From here on out, chapters should get longer since I was halfway through this section when I realized it was going to wind up longer than a oneshot.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Quirrel didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he woke with a start at the sound of the clanging elevator.  </p><p>“Is that you, Ghost?” he called, stifling a yawn. It was foolish to fall asleep in such an open place, though apparently, he’d needed the rest. Still, he hoped he didn’t have to use his nail so soon after waking.</p><p>In response, Ghost skipped over and all but threw themself onto the bench. They looked excited. Unable to sit still, they down a moment later, small feet tapping in place.</p><p>“Good news, I presume?” Quirrel asked, suddenly very awake. He’d never seen them so animated.</p><p>Ghost drew their nail. They made a show of striking the air a few times before holding it still enough for Quirrel to notice the difference.</p><p>He couldn’t help but feel just a bit smug. “So, you finally heeded my advice and visited the nailsmith.”</p><p>They held up their hands and gave an exasperated nod.</p><p>Another slash with their nail, and then they were showing him a few new charms they’d collected. One looked quite familiar, though Quirrel couldn’t fathom why.</p><p>“You’ve been busy,” he observed, amused at such an energetic update on his small friend’s wanderings. Just how long had he been asleep?</p><p>In a flash, they were back on the bench, tugging a worn map from the depths of their cloak. They opened it across their lap and first pointed out the City and then to the area below. It looked like they’d explored the sewers more than the capitol itself.</p><p>There were also four new markers, masks that stood out against the other pins. One was placed over the Temple of the Black Egg. The other three…</p><p>Quirrel had the impression that they indicated specific places in the City of Tears, Deepnest, and what looked to be Fog Canyon, but that was as far as he got. Staring at the markers made his head swim, thoughts floating away like mist in the wind.</p><p>Having appeared to finish their report of all they’d done, Ghost hopped up onto the bench and looked at Quirrel expectantly.</p><p>“I’ve… just been here,” he told them. He wondered again how long he’d been asleep. Either he took a dangerously long nap, or Ghost had managed to fit their entire adventure into under 30 minutes. “Still wrestling with my thoughts, I suppose.”</p><p>Ghost tilted their head to the side. After a moment of consideration, they hopped off the bench again and walked around to his other side. They pointed out the window and then gestured to where Quirrel had leaned his nail against the bench.</p><p>“Are you asking if I want to visit the nailsmith myself, or telling me that I should?”</p><p>A nod.</p><p>“It’s a fair idea, though I don’t really carry the geo for such an upgrade. It’s alright, though. My nail isn’t nearly in such a sorry state as yours was, so I think I’ll be fine without.”</p><p>Even as he spoke, Ghost seemed to be searching for something within their cloak. A moment later, they tossed a disturbingly large bag of geo onto the bench. When Quirrel didn’t react (what was he supposed to say to that?) they pointed.</p><p>“That’s, um, very kind of you, but I don’t feel comfortable taking your money,” he managed, equal parts touched and confused at the fact that Ghost had apparently taken it upon themself to help him overcome whatever hesitance kept him from entering the city. “I appreciate the support, my friend, but you are not obligated to face my trials with me. There’s no need to go through such trouble.”</p><p>Ghost returned their geo to their cloak and then hopped onto the bench themself. They looked up at him for a while (though it looked like they were more considering the mask he wore than Quirrel himself). After a moment of thought, they reached over and patted his shoulder, apparently deeming it impossible to pat his head. They continued patting, gesturing with their other hand for Quirrel to keep talking, to further explain himself.</p><p>That was not exactly something Quirrel was used to doing. Rambling about history or travel was one thing. Delving into his strange connection to Hallownest (and the various ways said connection expressed itself) was another. Whatever he’d said earlier had been more than he’d said… well, ever.</p><p>Still, it was hard to deny the sincerity of the gesture. Ghost was still looking at him and still patting and they looked like they intended to continue to do so until he talked.</p><p>“Something beyond my own curiosity has brought me to Hallownest,” Quirrel began, and Ghost sat back to listen. “And now it’s as if that same force is keeping me from the rest of the city. I don’t understand why. My mind tells me there are great discoveries and mysteries to be found, but some other sense tells me that there is nothing but tragedy below this room. I believe it to be true, of course, but that hasn’t stopped me before.” The entirety of Hallownest suffered from its history. Why was this place any different?</p><p>Outside, the rain continued to tap at the glass. Husk guards and aristocrats continued to wander aimlessly through the streets below. A single flying guard buzzed past, not noticing the two travelers on the other side of the window.</p><p>Quirrel frowned at the city as a whole. He enjoyed mysteries and puzzles, things that could be solved or unraveled using careful and creative thought. However, this particular problem was impossible to sort through.</p><p>Nothing made sense, and he knew that. Nothing about him had ever made sense, and there was little point in questioning it <em>now</em>, but the more he felt he shouldn’t continue into the city, the more he wanted to.</p><p>Ghost slid off the bench and took a few steps toward the elevator.</p><p>“Thank you for trying,” Quirrel began, but they shook their head.</p><p>They gestured for him to follow, and when he didn’t, they returned to the bench and patted his hand. Though their mask reflected as little emotion as it always did, they seemed determined.</p><p>“You want me to go with you?”</p><p>A nod.</p><p>“That’s kind, but haven’t you already been down? Don’t backtrack so far on my behalf.”</p><p>They tapped the elevator with their nail but otherwise did not move.</p><p>“I will be just fine on my own. You don’t have to worry –”</p><p>They tapped louder. The clang of their nail against the elevator’s metal door was beginning to echo through the halls.</p><p>“Alright, alright, you’ve convinced me,” Quirrel told them, smiling at how pleased they were. He held up his hands in surrender. “I’ll go with you through the city. Happy?”</p><p>Apparently. Ghost took a few more steps back toward the elevator, bouncing in place as they waited for Quirrel to collect his nail and join them.</p><p>“I’m surprised you trusted the elevators to still work,” he commented, following Ghost into the elevator. “I wasn’t certain they still functioned, so I found a way around.”</p><p>A shrug. Then there was a deafening clang of metal against metal when Ghost struck the lever with their nail.</p><p>Quirrel wanted to comment that they could have just used their hand to move the lever, but then realized they were small enough that they probably couldn’t. At the very least, they could’ve asked him to do it.</p><p>The elevator creaked back into motion, carrying the two travelers down. Rusted gears groaned and grated, and the floor shuddered beneath their feet. It wasn’t the most promising of sounds, but Ghost didn’t look concerned. They stood close to the door, head tilted so they could see through the twisted metal that decorated the outside.</p><p>As the elevator passed through the building, there was nothing to see aside from worn stone. All was dark and for a moment, it felt like the walls were closing in. Then the world opened up again. The rain hissed as it fell against the metal roof, and the streets were illuminated by the dim light of numerous lumifly lanterns.</p><p>The surrounding buildings suddenly towered over their heads and cobblestone roads snaked through like veins. The endless rain made the rock gleam even in the half light, rivulets running like strings of silver before emptying into dark water cannals.</p><p>It was beautiful.</p><p>Quirrel was not supposed to be there.</p><p>The metal screeched in warning before the elevator touched the ground with a rattling thud. The doors opened a moment later, and Ghost jumped out, eager to continue their exploration.</p><p>Quirrel followed more slowly, hand gripping his nail so tight that his fingers were going numb. The city was no more infected than anywhere else he’d been, the air smelling more of damp rock and water than anything else, but he still found it hard to breathe. The rain was cold as it tapped against his mask and ran down his back.</p><p>He wasn’t supposed to be there, oh wyrm, he was not supposed to be there.</p><p>Like before in the Queen’s station, he felt like he could hear the echoes of the life that had once filled the streets. The place held the same distinct emptiness that usually settled upon locations that were supposed to be populated by multitudes. Unlike the Queen’s Station, the city’s phantoms felt more like demons, dark and sinister, lurking in the long forgotten shadows of history. Where Quirrel could imagine voices, he remembered screams.</p><p>Ghost stopped walking and Quirrel didn’t notice until he tripped into them.</p><p>“Sorry,” he said, hopping a step back. The sound of his own voice felt unnaturally loud, even with the ever-present patter of rainfall. “I’m afraid my mind is elsewhere.”</p><p>Ghost looked at him for a moment before continuing on. They were walking slower, just a step ahead as the two headed deeper into the city.</p><p>“Have you already been this way?” Quirrel asked, if just to hear something other than his own thoughts. The sound of his own voice was unsettling, but the silence was suddenly unbearable. The city wasn’t supposed to be silent, but the only noise he could think of was screaming.</p><p>Ghost nodded and waved their hand vaguely.</p><p>“The city is huge,” Quirrel murmured, glancing up to the metal structures that arced overhead. “You couldn’t possibly have seen it all.”</p><p>A shrug and another vague hand gesture.</p><p>The further the two walked, the more Quirrel felt like he was being buried alive. He couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that he was intruding somewhere he very much was not supposed to go, and despite all the logic in the world telling him that he was at no more risk for infection there than anywhere else in the kingdom, he found himself reluctant to breathe the rain-washed air.</p><p>The cavern was cold, and though his mask kept most of the rain out of his face, icy water still splashed against his shoulders and ran down his back, and the puddles were so deep and so numerous, he felt he was wading more than walking.</p><p>Dark water collected in the channels that ran through the streets, and Quirrel found himself unwilling to look too closely when he and Ghost jumped over them. How many bugs met their end in those waters? How many had been pushed into them by escaping crowds, or forced under by infected friends? How many decided the waters offered a better fate than the slow decay of starvation?</p><p>There were faces in the water, he knew. It didn’t mean he had to look at them.</p><p>The road narrowed when it passed between two blocks of structures. Something like a bridge or terrace connected the two overhead, blocking the rain. Even more alleyways branched off from the main pathway, some blocked off by gates and others clogged with debris or corpses.</p><p>Husks meandered up ahead, orange eyes turning on the two travelers when they drew closer.</p><p>Oddly enough, coming face to face with some of the infected remains of the city’s population made Quirrel feel just a bit better. At the very least, those could be dealt with by using a nail.</p><p>Though Ghost seemed quite determined that he not get the chance.</p><p>Their nail was drawn in an instant, and before any of the husks had a chance to react, they were charging forward.</p><p>Quirrel had never really seen them fight before.</p><p>Ghost dashed forward, their mended blade a finely tuned instrument of destruction. The metal glinted in the dappled rain light, and in two swipes, the husk before them was cut down in streaks of orange.</p><p>Not to be outdone (and in desperate need to do something productive), Quirrel followed close behind, overtaking his small friend and then darting past to strike the husk that had followed closely behind the first.</p><p>The husks were not guards, and were far from a threat, shells breaking open beneath blades and infection fading in the rain. Their shells would join the numerous corpses that already dotted the alleyways.</p><p>A tap on his arm made him jump.</p><p>Ghost was at his side again, staring up in what he could only interpret as concern. Their nail was still held loosely in one hand, gore dripping down onto the street.</p><p>“Given how many must have lived here, I’m surprised there aren’t more of these reanimated husks,” Quirrel commented. In his mind’s eye, he saw the streets swimming with commuters and travelers, residents and tourists. If the multitudes had remained, the journey would have been much more difficult, if not impossible altogether.</p><p>Ghost gestured vaguely to the corpses and then even more vaguely to the rest of the city. There were probably more, further in; they had barely scratched the surface of the old kingdom’s capitol.</p><p>Neither had been injured in the encounter, so they continued on with little delay, Ghost wandering ahead a few paces while Quirrel followed. There were more husks, but they posed just as little a threat as the first few had.</p><p>The guards were just a bit more difficult.</p><p>Ghost was happy to run ahead, dashing through the ranks and striking down enemies nearly as quick as they saw them. Their nail slashed through the air in a deadly arc of silver, the flash of glinting light being the only warning before a husk fell.</p><p>Quirrel intended to do much the same. While he didn’t share Ghost’s enthusiasm for killing (if it could even be called such at that point), he didn’t enjoy a drawn-out fight when his opponent was out to kill him. Best eliminate threats before they became dangerous.</p><p>The thought faded the moment he locked blades with one of the sentries.</p><p>Quirrel had no idea what he saw in those empty eyes, but whatever it was, nearly stopped him in his tracks. A horrible feeling akin to nostalgia churned in his stomach. Unable to think clearly, he parried the next strike purely on instinct.</p><p>He blocked each attack automatically, the husk sentry’s nail never coming even close to his shell, but neither did he press it back or commit to a killing blow. Again and again, the clang of metal striking metal cut through the sound of the rain.</p><p>What was it? What did he see in that undead guard? Its armor was worn, marked with scratches and dents, and its body moved in an unnatural way, limbs jerking as if they no longer worked the way they had when the bug had been trained.</p><p>Where had Quirrel been trained? And when? He found he couldn’t recall.</p><p>His thoughts were scattering again. When he parried the husk’s next strike, it was just barely in time to avoid getting decapitated.</p><p>There was a blur of white and silver when Ghost intercepted, dropping down from above. Their nail cut through the sentry’s armor on the first slash of their blade. The second broke its shell open.</p><p>“Ah, thank you, friend,” Quirrel panted. Why was he out of breath? The walk from the Fungal Wastes had been more exerting than that little bout. “My thoughts are further away than I’d realized.”</p><p>Ghost seemed to realize this too. They gestured for him to follow, pointing ahead to where the alley opened up to a sort of courtyard. There were fewer husks there, and with the buildings set back to encircle some kind of feature in the center, the space felt less oppressive.</p><p>Stepping out from under the relative shelter of the alley, the rain hissed back to life, just as chilling as it had been before. The heavy drizzle washed the orange from Ghost’s mask and cloak and swept the infected viscera into the cannals.</p><p>Ghost drifted closer as the two wandered further into the courtyard. The open space seemed to make them anxious: they kept looking up to the surrounding terraces, their hand still gripping their nail as if they expected something to leap down and attack.</p><p>An attack was the last thing on Quirrel’s mind. The more he tried to decipher the millions of feelings plaguing his head, the more impossible it was to focus. Around and around his thoughts went as he tried to understand just what was happening to him.</p><p>Ghost was no longer at his side.</p><p>A quick glance told him that his little friend was standing just a few feet away. They stood very still, apparently not minding the rain that clattered against their mask and soaked through their cloak. They were absolutely transfixed by the structure before them.</p><p>When he took notice of it, so was Quirrel.</p><p>Set upon an ornately carved pedestal of black stone, a statue of a tall figure stood in the center of three smaller forms. The center being’s mask made him think of the marker Ghost had on their map. The masks of the three-surrounding made him think of the Black Egg.</p><p>The statue did not look familiar to Quirrel, even in the bizarre way that he’d recognized other things without having ever seen them. However, the longer he looked at it, the more somber the courtyard felt, a sad sort of quiet draping itself over the two travelers as he joined Ghost.</p><p>“Memorial to the Hollow Knight,” Quirrel read, seeing the inscription carved into the side of the structure. “In the Black Vault above. Through its sacrifice, Hallownest lasts eternal.”</p><p>Without looking away from the monument, Ghost took a step closer to Quirrel. They didn’t otherwise try to interact, just continued to stare upward, heedless of the rain that ran like tears down their mask.</p><p>Whatever Quirrel might feel while looking at the memorial, it seemed to effect Ghost more. There was far more meaning to the way they stared as if the statue would give up its secrets if only they stared long enough.</p><p>“Do you know…?” Who the Hollow Knight was? What the memorial meant? How it (they?) were supposedly enabling Hallownest’s perpetuation? He wanted to know, but that wasn’t quite what he wanted to ask.</p><p>Still without looking, Ghost reached up and grasped his wrist, small fingers squeezing briefly before relaxing again, but not yet letting go.</p><p>The two stood in silence for a while, lost to their own thoughts and ignorant to the rain or husks around them. Outside of their vigil, the city went on, lifeless motion and echoes of long forgotten memories moving as smoothly as the water, overlapping each other and parting around the two travelers as if they were stones thrown into the stream of time.</p><p>Quirrel found himself glad he wasn’t alone. The fact that his own distractedness might have cost him a limb aside, he found his mind quieted by the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one to feel the echoes of the past, and to hear them even in the present. He wasn’t the only one haunted by Hallownest’s phantoms despite its tragedy having been played through long before he or Ghost had ever arrived.</p><p>The rain came down. Where might the source be? Quirrel had his theories, but didn’t know for sure. Wherever the water’s origin was, he wanted to see it.</p><p>“I wouldn’t advise us standing here out in the open for too long,” he finally said.</p><p>As if woken from a dream, Ghost glanced up at him and dropped their hand.</p><p>“Would you like to accompany me back to the bench?” A bit disappointing, returning to the same bench after making so little progress, but he didn’t feel he had the mental fortitude to go in search for a different place suitable for rest.</p><p>Ghost nodded.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Like a lot of people, my favorite Quirrel encounter was in the City of Tears. It was around this time that I started recognizing him as a character (I'm so bad with names and faces the first time around...) and for some reason, the guards really freaked me out at first, so having him around made everything less scary, especially when I realized he didn't immediately leave the second you left the room.</p><p>I wouldn't call them headcanons, but I have some ideas regarding his history, specifically his relation to the city. Not going to go into it while he's a complete amnesiac, but I might get a chance to elaborate later.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I mentioned before, but I thought Deepnest was absolutely terrifying when I first wandered down there. Finding Quirrel  made me feel better. I wish he stayed longer.</p><p>Also, I'm tempted to write a version of all this in Ghost's pov. I initially chose to write in Quirrel's because, being the player, I felt I already knew Ghost's thoughts on things. They'll get their chance to better express themself, but until then, there's a lot going unsaid on their end.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            Deepnest was as terrifying as its reputation suggested. All around, hostile bugs crawled from the shadows and struck with claws and fangs, and the oppressive dark never let Quirrel see much further than the end of his nail.</p><p>            Why was he down there? Technically, Deepnest was outside the kingdom’s borders, the mantises acting as barrier between the two. If his purpose lay somewhere within Hallownest, logic dictated that Quirrel didn’t need to be there at all. And yet, there he was, hacking his way through hordes of dirtcarvers and deep hunters.</p><p>            Perhaps it was purely his own curiosity that compelled him to explore despite the danger. After all, there was a village down there that he wanted to see. That in itself was a small act of rebellion, the only he would allow himself against the soundless voice still calling him to Hallownest.</p><p>            He wasn’t too proud to admit that it might be fear keeping him from heeding the summons. There would be answers there, he knew, and answers meant an end to the great mystery of his purpose in visiting the long dead kingdom. He found himself not quite ready to give up the puzzle that had had been following him like a shadow long before he ever set out for Hallownest.</p><p>            Eventually, Quirrel’s travels brought him to a hot spring set in the center of Deepnest. The water’s pale glow was near blinding against the darkness outside, and the air was warm and humid. Though creatures lurked just beyond the reach of the light, the sound of their skittering faded, overtaken by the gentle gurgle of running water as Quirrel stepped inside.</p><p>            By then, he’d been walking for a while, having made his way back through the Mantis Village in order to get to Deepnest, and then surviving the trek between the gate and, well, wherever the hot spring was in relation to it. His nap in the City o Tears felt like several lifetimes ago. He deserved a break, and given how the rest of Deepnest looked, he couldn’t imagine a better place to rest.</p><p>            The cavern was large and empty save for the hot spring and a bench. Two shadowy passageways led off from opposite sides, one being the one he’d come through by, and the other leading elsewhere. Beyond the sound of the water, the creatures of Deepnest continued to crawl, but as Quirrel watched and waited, nothing came through.</p><p>            Once he deemed the area safe enough to do so, Quirrel set his nail against the bench (he didn’t think the water was good for the metal), and headed for the glowing water.</p><p>            Compared to the frigid caverns outside, the hot spring was near scalding as he sank into it. It wasn’t deep, the water coming up to his chest when he sat close to the edge. Set into a separate part of the cavern, steaming water bubbled out from a series of statues, creating a gentle current. The rocks were warm when he leaned against them.</p><p>            What a nice place to rest after such a long journey through such dangerous territory.</p><p>            Between the gentle heat and soothing sound of running water, Quirrel realized he was close to falling asleep again. A nap on a bench in the City of Tears was a bad idea, but falling asleep in a hot spring in Deepnest while his nail was far out of reach was a special brand of foolishness that bordered insanity.</p><p>            Still, as Quirrel propped his chin on one arm and struggled to keep his eyes open, nothing came through either tunnel leading back into the shadows. Perhaps the water’s glow kept the infected at bay? He knew it was soul that gave the spring it’s light. Seeing as the husks in the city functioned just fine in the endless rain, perhaps that had more to do with the absence of enemies within the glowing cavern.</p><p>            The damp air acted as a barrier from the terribly sweet smell of infection that permeated the atmosphere even so far underground. It had been a while since Quirrel had been rid of the scent, and he found himself reluctant to leave the mist’s shelter.</p><p>            Time passed at a crawl as he rested and lazily plotted his next move. He wanted to see the village hidden within the depths of Deepnest, but then what? He didn’t carry a map (it was more exciting to travel without one) and though he had some knowledge of Hallownest beyond his experience, he wasn’t exactly sure of where he hadn’t yet been.</p><p>            He could try to find the cartographer that was also wandering through the kingdom. The two had crossed paths a few times on their various journeys. Cornifer, wasn’t it? He seemed a friendly fellow.</p><p>            Ghost had explored a fair bit of Hallownest the last time Quirrel saw them, and he had no doubt that they’d explored more since then. Perhaps he should find them and see if they had any idea of where he might go after Deepnest.</p><p>            Of course, searching for one bug across Hallownest was an idea so ridiculously impractical that Quirrel normally wouldn’t have even entertained it, but he felt that if he were to search for Ghost, he would find them.</p><p>            He still didn’t understand exactly what brought Ghost to the kingdom, but the longer he thought about it, the more certain he was that whatever that purpose might be, it was closely aligned with his own.</p><p>            Quirrel wasn’t entirely sure if he truly believed in the concept of ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’. An unknown force guiding him into Hallownest was one thing, but the idea of a predetermined fate was quite another.  Still, it was one hell of a coincidence that, as he considered going in search of his small friend, said friend dropped in from a gap in the ceiling.</p><p>            Of all the times they’d surprised him, Quirrel was pretty sure the monumental splash declaring their arrival was the closest to actually stopping his heart.</p><p>            “You’re going to be the death of me,” he wheezed, one hand gripping his chest as he attempted to calm his breathing. “Just how many heart attacks do you intend to give me?”</p><p>            Apparently, at least one more.</p><p>            The waves created by their dramatic entrance had yet to calm, the glow making it hard to see while Ghost was partially submerged. Even in the center of the hot spring, the water was shallow enough for them to stand without drowning, but as the waters settled, they didn’t move, small form floating lifelessly on the surface.</p><p>            A cloud of inky black bloomed beneath them, void cutting like a solar eclipse through the soul’s light.</p><p>            Despite the heat, Quirrel felt everything in him go cold.</p><p>            “Oh, wyrm,” he muttered, back on his feet in an instant. He waded over to them, wincing as void brushed his shell; despite being surrounded by steaming water, it was impossibly cold. “Ghost, are you alright? Can you hear me?” Not that they were likely to answer even if they could. “By the gods, what have you gotten yourself into?”</p><p>            Ghost had never seemed so small to him as Quirrel carefully scooped them up. Void continued to spill from an unseen wound, the substance floating into the air once it was no longer submerged. Their cloak was stained black with it and Quirrel shuddered at the feeling of it against his shell. There was just so much. It ran down his arms like ink and dripped into the air.</p><p>            “I’m here, I have you. You’re going to be alright,” Quirrel found himself saying, though there was little confidence behind his words. He wasn’t exactly a healer to begin with, and he’d never seen wounds that bled void, nor did he have any clue as to how to heal them.</p><p>            Before, Ghost’s had mended on their own while they rested on a bench, but would that work here? There was a bench near the hot spring, but their wounds were so much worse than the ones sustained in Greenpath.</p><p>            Quirrel’s first instinct was to get them out of the water; their injuries could be better examined and cleaned on land. Then he recalled the healing properties of soul, and given he had no other medicine to work with, perhaps leaving them in the pool would be the smarter option.</p><p>            The second line of thinking was supported by a weak tap against his arm. Ghost gave a halfhearted wave once they’d gotten Quirrel’s attention and then pointed to the water.</p><p>            “Right, of course,” he murmured, making his way back to the edge of the hot spring. He sat down slowly, lowering Ghost as deeply into the water as he dared. Not trusting their ability to keep themself upright, he continued to hold them, their head propped up against his shoulder so they wouldn’t drown.</p><p>            Outside of that, he didn’t know what to do. What else <em>could</em> he do?</p><p>            Void still seeped from an unknown source, turning the water dark before it broke the surface and then dissipated into the air. He wasn’t sure of the extent of their injuries or even where they were, and between the water’s glow and void’s unrelenting darkness, there was no point in trying to see.</p><p>            After a moment, Ghost patted him again and Quirrel tried not to flinch as more void was smeared across his shell. The substance was slick like oil and so cold it nearly burned before condensing and drifting upward.</p><p>            “Of all the times you’ve startled me, I think this instance wins out,” Quirrel sighed. “In the future, let’s not try to top it.”</p><p>            Another pat, but less void.</p><p>            “Is there anything else I can do for you? I’m afraid I don’t make a good healer even on the best of days, and the way your wounds work is entirely unknown to me. Is there anything else to help you aside from the water?” Lifeseeds crossed his mind, but searching for them would take far too long, and Quirrel didn’t want to leave them anyhow.</p><p>            Ghost shook their head.</p><p>            Their mask was close enough that Quirrel could see the shadow beneath. An unfathomable darkness consumed the light around it, and as Quirrel stared, he felt like it was having a go at his soul as well. A cold feeling ran down his shell, and it had little to do with the temperature.</p><p>            Just what kind of creature was he holding?</p><p>            <em>A friend</em>, he thought decisively. <em>A Ghost</em>.</p><p>            They patted him a third time and then pointed. They wanted him to talk.</p><p>            “I don’t know what to tell you,” Quirrel admitted. “The manner of your arrival still has me somewhat distracted.”</p><p>            A tiny shrug. They didn’t care what he said as long as he did <em>something</em> to fill the silence.</p><p>            “A village lies deep within Deepnest,” he managed. Of course the first thing he thought to talk about were his travel plans. “To see it is why I braved the journey down here, and it is where I intended to go after resting here for a time. After that, I’m not sure where I’ll go. Before you fell down here, I was thinking about trying to find you. You seem to have covered more ground than I have, and I was hoping you might have a suggestion or two. However, I’m open to my plans changing should you need help beyond this.” He took a deep breath. “I find that I’ve grown quite fond of you. My purpose can wait until you’ve recovered.”</p><p>            Another pat.</p><p>            With that admission, Quirrel found it difficult to find something else to talk about. Of course, he would be at a loss for words the one time he was asked to fill the silence.</p><p>            However, Ghost stopped prompting him, so perhaps they didn’t mind. The two fell into the same sort of companionable quiet as they usually did.</p><p>            If time had passed at a crawl earlier, it was positively dragging while Quirrel and Ghost waited for the latter to heal.</p><p>            After what felt like a millennium, it looked like there was less void bleeding into the water and air. Soul was beginning to edge out the darkness, the heat easing the chill away.</p><p>             The panicked feeling that had spiked through Quirrel’s chest was likewise beginning to fade, the adrenaline rush leaving him feeling drained. He still worried, but Ghost’s injuries were slowly mending. There was nothing left for him to do.</p><p>            Though sleep beckoned once again, Quirrel found it hard to relax. He found himself much more aware of the two passageways that led back out into Deepnest. Ghost would need protecting should something hostile wander in. It was incredibly inconvenient to have his weapon out of reach, but at least Ghost had theirs. In fact, it looked different, the blade gleaming paler than he remembered. Perhaps they’d had it reforged again.</p><p>            Given their usual propensity for stillness and silence, it was hard to tell, but after a time, Quirrel realized Ghost had fallen asleep. Their breathing was slow and even, body curled up against him in a more relaxed than lifeless way. The water around them continued to clear, soul overtaking the void.</p><p>            Quirrel stared up at the gap in the ceiling that they’d fallen through. He tried to retrace his steps and recall what was up that direction. How had they gotten so badly injured?</p><p>            Well, given they were in Deepnest, there were a lot of possible answers to that question. Though he’d made a few friendly jabs at the earlier state of their nail, Quirrel never truly doubted Ghost’s ability to defend themself. He’d only seen them fight once, but he knew despite their smaller stature, they possessed remarkable skill when it came to fighting.</p><p>            That, and the two had met so often in such a short time that, under normal circumstances, if Ghost had gotten seriously injured, Quirrel would have known about it. With that knowledge in mind, he’d been quite confident that, between the two, <em>he</em> was the one more likely to receive a serious injury.</p><p>            He should have known better than to equate any part of Ghost’s existence with ‘normal’. He’d known from the start that they were anything but.</p><p>            Eventually, the traces of void finally faded from the water entirely and Quirrel no longer felt the numbing cold against his shell. With the darkness lifted, he consider closer examining Ghost’s injuries, but as they were still sleeping soundly and their life no longer seemed to be in danger, he would wait until they woke. While he didn’t know the specifics of a void wound’s healing process, time and rest did wonders with most every other kind of hurt. They could take as long as they needed.</p><p>            Without the panic over them losing their life or the distraction of void freezing his shell, Quirrel found it hard not to think of how close Ghost was. He had them on his lap, arms holding them around the middle to keep them from slipping too far into the water. They were small, half his height and made smaller by how they curled up against him, head against his shoulder and mask so close that it tapped against his if he turned his head too far.</p><p>            They’d scared him. No, it was more like Ghost surprised him. Their sudden appearance surprised him, and their injuries worried him. The fear that was beginning to settle in was from something else.</p><p>            Quirrel had been traveling for as long as he could remember, and he’d met countless bugs along the way. He’d outlived nearly as many, having watched acquaintances and temporary companions succumb to the elements or disease or be struck down by bug or beast. It was always sad, and it always left him feeling hollow for days afterward. And yet, each time, he’d moved on. He wasn’t callous, it was just how he lived, how they <em>all</em> had lived. No place was a utopia, but the roads between were deadly. Those who wandered them knew the risks they were taking.</p><p>            Without realizing it, Ghost managed to be an exception. Sometime between their sporadic meetings, Quirrel realized he enjoyed their company. He appreciated the silence the two could share, and was charmed by just how much Ghost had to say through it. He wound up caring for them, perhaps more than he’d like to admit.</p><p>            How foolish it all was, how reckless he’d been. From the beginning, he knew their friendship would be temporary. It was in both of their natures to keep moving, to not look back. Despite the similar paths they currently walked, they would ultimately separate again, most likely never to be reuinited.</p><p>Even knowing that, the idea of losing Ghost, of them becoming another fuzzy memory for him to look back on with a mix of fondness and regret, was unthinkable. The very thought <em>hurt</em>.</p><p>            Equal parts amused and exasperated at the direction of his thoughts, Quirrel sighed and glared at the hole in the ceiling. Whatever state his head and heart were in by the end, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. How long had it been since he was that close to someone anyhow?</p><p>            When Ghost woke, it was with a jolt and a flailing kick that caught Quirrel in the stomach. He let go of them reflexively, and they dashed away, a spray of glowing water masking their escape. For a moment, all was a blur of shadow and soul. When the air cleared, they were standing at the other side of the hot spring, shaking a bit with their nail held before them.</p><p>            “Er, glad to see you’re feeling better,” Quirrel said, unsure of what else to say. At least they didn’t kick him very hard.</p><p>            Ghost looked wildly around the cavern for a moment before looking back to Quirrel. It took a moment, but recognition donned and they visibly relaxed. They returned their nail to their back sank deeper into the water until the glow nearly reached the eyes of their mask. They waded back slowly.</p><p>            “I didn’t mean to startle you,” Quirrel told them. “I was afraid you’d drown if I didn’t hold your head up. You were in a very bad state when you dropped in from above. Do you recall that, or what happened before?”</p><p>            A pause and then a reluctant nod. They all but dragged themself up onto the rocks, energy having been spent on their frantic escape.</p><p>            “How are you feeling? You look better now, but your injuries had seemed quite extensive… you bled a lot of void.”</p><p>            Ghost went still at that. They stared at Quirrel for a moment and then stood. When they tugged their cloak aside, there wasn’t even a trace of the damage.</p><p>            There was something else, though.</p><p>            “Ghost,” Quirrel said slowly. His initial relief shattered into concern of a different kind. He could only see a small part of the white symbol on their back, but he had a feeling he knew what it was. “That mark you have…”</p><p>            Ghost carefully tugged their cloak up further and turned around.</p><p>            The brand was large, the uppermost points reaching between their shoulders and the lowest sitting at the small of their back. Thin lines traced smoothly across their shell, looking to be both burned and carved. The shape was reminiscent of a crown, four lines branching from a single point, and it glowed nearly as bright as the surrounding soul.</p><p>            “The King’s Brand,” Quirrel said quietly as Ghost turned back around. “How did you…? Why…?” There were a million questions running through his mind (one of which regarding why he knew what the symbol meant though he was sure he’d never seen it before) but Quirrel found himself unable to voice a single one.</p><p>            Whatever the reason, whatever the story, it was most certainly a long one, and it was hardly an appropriate time to pry.</p><p>            Plus, his reaction seemed to make them nervous. Small hands fidgeted with the hem of their cloak as Ghost sat back down with their knees drawn to their chest.  They were staring hard at the water, as if they might find answers within its depths.</p><p>            “Whatever significance it held initially, with the king long gone and the kingdom a phantom of its former self, I suppose the symbol now means whatever <em>you</em> wish it to mean,” Quirrel told them. “I don’t presume myself entitled to that meaning. However, should you ever feel like sharing, I’m always willing to listen. Well,” he added with a chuckle. “I suppose not ‘<em>listen’,</em> but you understand my meaning. For now, I’m just glad to see you recoverng.”</p><p>            They looked a bit less agitated at the reassurance, uncurling from the nervous position they’d taken and letting their feet dangle in the water. They let go of their cloak to reach for something within its shadow. A moment later, they had a worn notebook in their hands. They flipped through the pages until they found the one they wanted and then flipped the journal around so Quirrel could see its contents.</p><p>            “Carver hatchers and dirtcarvers,” Quirrel read. Beside each label was a crude sketch of the bug in question, as well as a few notes regarding the subject. “Did they have something to do with what happened to you?”</p><p>            Ghost nodded again and slammed the journal shut just a bit harder than necessary.</p><p>            “I haven’t had the misfortune of running into any carver hatchers yet, but I recall being mobbed by packs of dirtcarvers on the way down.” He’d sustained no serious injuries from the encounters, but he recalled how difficult fending them off had been. Just when he’d thought he was rid of them all, another would push through the dirt and attack.</p><p>            Ghost aggressively kicked at the water and then winced at the motion.</p><p>            “Perhaps give yourself a bit more time to heal,” Quirrel suggested. “Just because you’re no longer bleeding doesn’t mean you’ve fully recovered.”</p><p>            Another splash when they struck the water again, but then Ghost grudgingly settled down. Dissatisfied by how their nail grated against the rocks when they leaned back, they withdrew their weapon and looked about to set it on the stone beside them. Before doing so, they held it up to Quirrel.</p><p>            “I noticed that the blade looks even more refined than before. I presume you returned to the nailsmith?”</p><p>            Ghost held up two fingers.</p><p>            “Twice?” They certainly had the geo for it. Quirrel wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the origins of the large bag Ghost had shown him earlier. “I’m sure he appreciated that. I can’t imagine he gets much business down in the City of Tears these days.”</p><p>            Continuing with the update of their more recent adventures, Ghost also showed him their new charms and an ancient tram pass and a few relics that they’d picked up from wyrm knew where.</p><p>            Though he felt that he was missing half the story they were trying to tell, Quirrel was happy to listen. They still moved slowly, carefully, they were nearly as animated as they had been back in the City of Tears. The sight was an encouraging one, and truly, he found himself wanting to know more of the adventures Ghost had gone on while traveling on their own.</p><p>            Finished showing off the items they’d collected, Ghost gripped their cloak again, holding it up for him to see. They pointed at the fabric repeatedly, obviously trying to point out some specific detail, though Quirrel wasn’t sure what that might be. Aside from the void having been washed out, he saw nothing that hadn’t been there since he first saw them.</p><p>            When it was clear he still didn’t understand, Ghost got to their feet again and took a few steps back.</p><p>            “Perhaps wait –” Quirrel began, but they’d already jumped.</p><p>            When they darted through the water earlier, they’d been half submerged, and the soul’s glow obscured the way shadows wrapped around their body like a pair of wings. The second time, they jumped high before dashing forward, and there was nothing to hide the darkness that was so complete, it almost looked to smother the light of the hot spring. It clung to Ghost’s form as a billowing cloak of void, dispersing just as easily when they splashed back down.</p><p>            Truly, it was a fascinating discovery, but how many near heart attacks and medical emergencies and existential crisis and mysterious brands/abilities can one bug be expected to handle?</p><p>            Quirrel needed a nap.</p><p>            “That ability certainly is… unique,” he managed. Then “I tried to tell you to wait!” when Ghost collapsed.</p><p>            Concerned when they didn’t immediately get back up, he fished them out of the water again. “I believe I’ve mentioned before that you’re incredibly stubborn,” Quirrel huffed as he sat back down with them.</p><p>            Ghost nodded, not a trace of shame to be found.</p><p>            “How about resting some more before you go back to jumping around,” he suggested. “You should rest a bit longer before returning to your exploration of Deepnest. Would you like me to return you to the rocks? Or there’s a bench just around the corner. If you don’t mind me saying, you look like you don’t have the strength to keep yourself upright.”</p><p>            They gave a half-hearted wave that could mean any number of things.</p><p>            “Or, if you don’t mind me holding you, you can remain here and rest. I’ll make sure your head doesn’t go under.”</p><p>            For a long time, there was no response. Quirrel was beginning to wonder if they hadn’t already fallen back asleep. Then Ghost reached up to pat his mask, except they were a bit too enthusiastic about it and wound up just flicking water in his face.</p><p>            “That’s not resting,” Quirrel told them, staying their hand before they put his eye out.</p><p>            Ghost gently tugged their hand back and waved it dismissively. They made themself comfortable, arms tucked close beneath their cloak and weight sinking into him more once they were settled.</p><p>            It was nice to know they trusted him that much.</p><p>            All was still and quiet.</p><p>            Quirrel took the time to sort through some thoughts (again).</p><p>            Their new ability to cloak themself in shadow was a mystery that he wished they could elaborate on. It was some kind of equation, their bleeding void and jumping through shadows meant something together, but the connection refused to be made. He felt as though he already knew the answer, but he wasn’t supposed to.</p><p>            So far, Quirrel knew they healed quickly and bled void, they had a brand marking them as king burned into their shell, and now they could dash through shadows. And still, he knew that was hardly a fraction of their story. What a wonderful mystery they were. Maybe one day, they would tell him more.</p><p>            As Ghost dropped off to sleep, Quirrel realized he wouldn’t be able to get much rest himself. Just because nothing had intruded upon them yet didn’t mean nothing ever would. The two were still in Deepnest, after all.</p><p>            Still, Quirrel found that he didn’t mind all that much.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, I gave in and wrote Ghost's point of view. I haven't gotten as far with their narrative yet, but this chapter is the main reason why I wanted to write their side of things. As players who know the story, you can probably guess what's going through Ghost's head, but there are some specifics I'd like to explain. </p><p>Also, I'm super sorry for being bad at replying to comments. They've all brought me so much joy and appreciation and motivation to keep writing I can't even believe it and can't thank you enough. </p><p>Mostly, I don't reply because I get overwhelmed and then don't know what to say individually, so I hope getting chapters out as quickly as I can will suffice for now.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            Surrounded by still-moving machinery and miners still chipping away at the rock, Crystal Peak was full of noise and movement. The glittering caverns were filled with motion, but not life, and though he thought the climb worth it, Quirrel found most of the journey to be incredibly distasteful. Particularly, he wasn’t fond of the crystal hunters and the razor-sharp crystal fragments they tended to shoot at passing travelers.</p><p>            He found peace and blessed quiet in the highest room of the peak. There were crates and barrels full of ancient equipment clustered in a corner, and the machinery set into he walls suggested that miners had used the space at one point, but for the moment, Quirrel was the only one there. The husks that continued their endless search for riches remained in the more crystal-filled caverns.</p><p>            A wide metal platform led up to a massive window overlooking the world below. Dirtmouth glowed like a collection of dimming lumiflies against the dark, and beyond it, the Howling Cliffs stood black against a dark gray sky.</p><p>            It was humbling, to be reminded of just how big the world was. Though his memory was a bit hazy, he recalled the barren wastes beyond the cliffs. Dust and sand swept endlessly across the flat landscape as far as the eye could see. Standing in a place where he could see it all and more nearly made Quirrel dizzy with the prospect of exploring such a wide world. He could live a thousand more lifetimes and never see it all.</p><p>            What an amazing thought.</p><p>            Perhaps he’d grown too used to the nearly imperceptible shift in the air that accompanied Ghost when they appeared. They were as silent as the darkness itself (they always were), but Quirrel knew they stood behind him long before he turned to look.</p><p>            Their steps were slow as they joined Quirrel by the window. They didn’t bother with a greeting, choosing instead to stare out into the dark.</p><p>            “I haven’t seen you in a while,” Quirrel said.</p><p>            A dejected nod.</p><p>            “You look tired, friend.”</p><p>            ‘Tired’ was a bit of an understatement. Ghost looked as though they carried the entirety of Hallownest on their shoulders. Even as they stood there, gazing down at the fading little town, their head was low, and their hands gripped the hem of their cloak like a lifeline.</p><p>            Much had happened since the two last met.</p><p>            The Crossroads were a very different place. Orange infection filled the air so fully that every breath felt like he was choking on the disgustingly sweet fog. The creatures there were even stronger and more aggressive for it. Many now exploded upon contact as well, a fact that Quirrel thankfully learned secondhand.</p><p>            He felt no need to bring up the matter to Ghost. Though he didn’t know where they’d been since he last saw them in Deepnest, he had a feeling they knew. They might even know more about it than he did.</p><p>            If not, it certainly looked like they’d been through an equally dangerous area. Their cloak was longer, and more tattered along the edges. There was something hurt in the way they stood, though no void drifted from their shell.</p><p>            Whatever was happening to the kingdom, it was coming to a head. Quirrel knew it as well as he knew left from right and up from down, though he didn’t know why he thought so. It was quite incredible, bearing witness to the living corpse of an ancient kingdom rise up once more, if just to return to its death throws. It was even more incredible, knowing that somehow, he fit into what was taking place. A small part, perhaps, but still.</p><p>            And though he still wasn’t sure how, it was made abundantly clear that Ghost was at the center of it all.</p><p>            “I passed through Dirtmouth again, on my way here,” Quirrel said when the silence had gone on too long. He and Ghost didn’t usually need words, but there was something toxic and sad in the air that he didn’t want to give the chance to grow. “I’m not sure if we can quite call it a ‘fading’ town anymore. Truly, there are more bugs now than there had been when I first arrived in Hallownest!”</p><p>            Ghost gave a slow nod.</p><p>            “Many seemed to know your face when I asked if anyone knew your whereabouts,” he continued.</p><p>            They looked up at that, head tilted in question.</p><p>            “Well, seeing as I hadn’t seen you in a while, I’d wondered if anyone else had.” There was no need to get defensive, but Quirrel couldn’t help but feel like he should. “Also, the last time I saw you, you were running into Deepnest despite still recovering from being mauled by dirtcarvers.”</p><p>            Ghost held up their hands and then gestured at themself, indicating the fact that their wounds had healed. They still looked about ready to keel over from exhaustion, but apparently that didn’t warrant concern.</p><p>            “Anyhow, my point is that, as far as I’ve heard, half the population of Dirtmouth wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you.”</p><p>            That had been the wrong thing to say, Quirrel knew the moment he’d said it. Ghost’s hands fell limp at their sides and they quickly turned back to looking out the window. Their shoulders sagged as if another weight had been piled upon them.</p><p>            “The climb through Crystal Peak was not easy,” he tried instead. “Though their pickaxes were not designed with combat in mind, they manage to make decent weapons when in the hands of the infected. And the miners aside, the old conveyers and supporting systems can be lethal on their own. Of course, it does not surprise me that you still managed to find me here.”</p><p>            They didn’t react at first. They’d gone still again, still in the way that made Quirrel question as to whether they were breathing. Then they reached within their cloak and withdrew their map. It was much bigger than Quirrel recalled, the edges torn and ragged. Orange smudged the parchment in places, as did black. He hoped the latter was ink.</p><p>            The patchwork map hit the ground with a muffled <em>thump</em> when Ghost tossed it before their feet. When it didn’t unroll all the way, they halfheartedly kicked at it until it did.</p><p>            Even more of Hallownest had been recorded. Quirrel recognized some small parts that might have been drawn by Cornifer, but everything else had been depicted by Ghost’s hand. Pins of different shapes and colors indicated important locations, and in some areas, Ghost had embellished their records with small doodles.</p><p>            “You’ve traveled far,” Quirrel observed. Before they ran off on him, Ghost had shown him their map back in Deepnest. He tried to compare the two, mentally calculate exactly how much they’d explored since he last saw them. “I’ll admit, I’m a touch jealous. You’ve seen places I haven’t even heard of.”</p><p>            There might have been more meaning to Ghost showing him how much of the kingdom they’d experienced, but as Quirrel waited, they made no attempt to elaborate. They just continued to stare. Given the tilt of their head, it was hard to tell if they were looking at the map or out the window.</p><p>            “Would you care to sit and rest? This room is quite safe, and you certainly look like you need a respite.”</p><p>            No response.</p><p>            Outside, the machines kept moving, husks kept mining, and crystalized beasts mindlessly wandered up and down the halls. On the other side of the window’s thick glass, the winds howled.</p><p>            Quirrel looked down at the map again, searching for some kind of insight to Ghost’s solemn mood. Territories were labeled, as well as smaller sub-sections within. Some of the pins had tiny images carved into the top, indicating what they stood for. Most were for benches and stagway stations. The ones that didn’t have any images were harder to understand as they also lacked labels.</p><p>            The mask marker that he then recognized as the Hollow Knight remained in the Forgotten Crossroads, over the Temple of the Black Egg. The other mask markers were… Gone? If he was remembering correctly, they marked locations in Deepnest, the City of Tears, and Fog Canyon. Now, only the one in Fog Canyon remained.</p><p>            He tried to note exactly what it pointed out, but found himself unable to.</p><p>            Some unnamed instinct screamed in his mind, but Quirrel ignored it. Instead, he looked back to Ghost. “Would you like to tell me of your travels?”</p><p>            After a very long pause (Quirrel was beginning to think they weren’t going to respond at all) Ghost looked up at him and took a few steps back. They raised their hands and pressed them to either side of their head. They then nodded, indicating Quirrel should do the same.</p><p>            Confused and a bit apprehensive of what they intended, Quirrel did as requested.</p><p>            Too late, he realized they specifically wanted him to cover his ears.</p><p>            Something like shadow and soul exploded at their feet and rushed upward in a cloud of mixed magic. The power behind the form made the ground shake, but more severe was the sound. It slashed through the air as a terrible shriek, like the howling of a million damned wraiths. The stone above their head shuddered when the spell collided, and the sound spread outward when the mix of light and void faded. Even when it was over, it felt as if the sound had imprinted itself into Crystal Peak itself, echoes still bouncing between the crystals.</p><p>            When the air cleared, Ghost was standing exactly where they had been before. Though they still looked like they needed to sleep for a day and a half, they stood just a bit straighter, shoulders no longer so slumped.</p><p>            Quirrel felt like his entire shell was ringing.</p><p>            Ghost skipped back to his side and gestured to their head and then his. They gave an anxious wave when he didn’t respond quickly enough.</p><p>            “You <em>did</em> warn me,” he told them. Everything, even his own voice, sounded strangely muted, echoing as if he were in Fog Canyon. He gingerly let go of his head, fairly certain no permanent damage had been done. “Is that your summary of your adventures since I last saw you?”</p><p>            A nod. Still concerned, they tapped their head and then pointed at him.</p><p>            “I’m alright. You continue to catch me off guard, but no harm has been done.” Though, he wondered if he should be concerned about the fact that Ghost actually could make noise, and it turned out to be a sort of scream that made him feel like his shell would shatter. He was <em>definitely</em> concerned that they used said shell-shattering scream to express their feelings regarding recent events.</p><p>            They were staring again, looking like they wanted to elaborate, but didn’t know how.</p><p>            “I believe I’ve told you before that I’m always here to listen, should you wish to share your story. I have nowhere else to be, and I have more time than anything else.” He was more than willing to give them all the time in the world, but there was also the fact that he didn’t dare return to the more populated levels of Crystal Peak while his hearing was impaired.</p><p>            A pause. Fidgety hands gripped the hem of their cloak, twisting the fabric.</p><p>            “You can tell me as much or as little as you wish,” Quirrel added. “Or, if you would rather not tell me anything at all, I’m happy to go back to telling you of my own travels. I did eventually find that village in Deepnest. It turned out to be a very intriguing place to explore.”</p><p>             A nod. Then Ghost dropped to the ground, sitting heavily with their knees hugged to their chest. They looked quite miserable like that, cloak pooling around them like shadowy wings.</p><p>            Quirrel followed their lead, taking a seat beside them.</p><p>            Another period of silence stretched out, this one comparatively more companionable than the last. Something somber hung over the atmosphere like a smothering blanket, but at least the ground was closer should Ghost tip over from exhaustion.</p><p>            After a long while, they leaned forward, indicating the map still spread before them. They pointed to an area on the far right labeled ‘Kingdom’s edge’. Then they reached further, indicating a smaller space called the ‘Cast-Off Shell’.</p><p>            “I haven’t been that far east,” Quirrel commented. Not that there was a part of Hallownest he didn’t want to see, but he kind of assumed the eastern border would look close enough to the western one that he might leave it until his inevitable departure.</p><p>            Ghost nodded and pulled out the journal they’d shown him back in Deepnest. The pages showed even more signs of wear, orange and black staining the parchment as much as it did the map. They flipped to the chosen page and then held it up.</p><p>            Quirrel recognized the protector of Hallownest. According to the journal, her name was Hornet and Ghost had fought her twice.</p><p>            Given what happened when Quirrel met her, he could only imagine how Ghost’s encounter had gone. Even if that was all to their tale, he felt like the exhaustion they carried was justified.</p><p>            Whatever point they wanted to make with her image made, Ghost then turned to another page. The illustration was of a black specter with white eyes. The label said ‘sibling’.</p><p>            The journal was then set aside, and Ghost slowly withdrew their nail and then set it beside them. They patted the flat of the blade and Quirrel wasn’t sure what that meant. Did they kill her? Or were they simply confirming the fight the two had?</p><p>When they next raised their hand, it was to gesture at their back.</p><p>            Is that where they’d received the King’s Brand? How did Hornet fit into everything?</p><p>            Then again, given her role as protector of Hallownest, it made sense that she guarded the mark. Unlike a simple crown of gold or silver, the King’s Brand held true power over the kingdom. It wasn’t a thing that should fall into the wrong hands, and it was not a burden to be taken lightly.</p><p>            Ghost pointed to the map again, this time to a place in Deepnest. In fact, it was a place Quirrel knew.</p><p>            “The Distant Village?” he asked. He could still feel his mind reeling, trying to put together the pieces of the last revelation they decided to drop on him.</p><p>            A nod. From the depths of their cloak, they withdrew one of the mask-shaped pins he’d seen earlier. The moment Quirrel noticed it, his thoughts scattered in three different directions, and no matter how he tried, he couldn’t focus enough to note any details. Just as well, the charm was returned to their cloak nearly as fast; whatever the marker indicated, it was gone now.</p><p>            They again turned to Hornet’s journal page.</p><p>            Quirrel wasn’t sure what they were trying to tell him with that one, but Ghost was moving on before he could ask.</p><p>            Though, perhaps he should wait until later to ask, if he asked at all. He told them he would listen. Listening did not involve talking on his side.</p><p>            Next was a place set high in the City of Tears. Ghost withdrew another discarded mask marker and proceeded to point to it, the empty space on the map, and then their nail. They showed Quirrel another page of the journal. However the fight between them and the Watcher Knights had gone, it must have been bad. The journal was tossed aside in an aggressive manner, and they smacked their hand against the map a few times before moving on.</p><p>             Now that they were sharing, they started moving faster, pointing out locations and then trying to express what had taken place there. They gestured to their nail more often than not.</p><p>            As far as Quirrel could tell, something notable happened also in a place simply labeled as ‘The Abyss’ (it had something to do with the dark figures they called siblings), a location called the ‘Colosseum of Fools’ (a tragedy; they seemed very sad when they next pointed out a space below the Colosseum), and then the Crossroads as a whole (no explanation needed).</p><p>            Ghost was near panting by the time they finished their whirlwind of an explanation. They looked to Quirrel and held up their hands in a helpless gesture. Despite his attempt to express otherwise, his utter confusion must have been apparent.</p><p>            “I think it’s safe to assume I was correct in thinking you’d been through a lot since we last met,” Quirrel said, still frantically trying to piece together their story so he might have something intelligent to say about it. “I can see how such experiences would weigh so heavily upon you; it’s a lot for a single bug to carry.”</p><p>            Another helpless gesture. Ghost looked back out the window.</p><p>            It was a funny thing to think about, seeing the town so unphased by what took place below. Quirrel had explored over half of Hallownest, and Ghost even more than that. Both had been fighting through husks and mantises and the beasts of Deepnest, and Dirtmouth remained untouched.</p><p>            Just below the surface, the Crossroads was choking on infection, but when Quirrel had passed through, the little town was just the same as the last time he’d seen it. There were a few more bugs than before, but still. Quirrel couldn’t decide whether it was a sad or hopeful thing, the town still surviving despite whatever tragedy took place on the other side of the well.</p><p>            “I find the view to be quite humbling,” he said, recalling his thoughts from earlier. “It reminds me just how big the world is. I’ve been wandering for a long time, and I doubt I’ve seen even a fraction of what’s out there. I think it equal parts wonderous and disappointing that one can’t see everything in a single lifetime.”</p><p>            Ghost shifted closer and leaned their head against his shoulder.</p><p>            Quirrel wrapped an arm around them and pulled them closer. He couldn’t face the danger for them, and he couldn’t solve problems he only half understood, but he could offer a shoulder to lean on when they needed it, and that would have to be enough.</p><p>            “We’re only mortal, my friend. Allow some forgiveness for imperfection and some hope for the future. The past will remain as it is.”</p><p>            Silence fell again, but the air felt lighter. Outside, the winds howled, and below, infected bugs continued their mindless work, but both seemed miles away. As wide as the world was, for the moment, it narrowed to just the two of them.</p><p>            It was a shame they couldn’t stay that way. Eventually, the two needed to move on. Perhaps they would meet a time or two more while in Hallownest, but the paths leading away from the kingdom led in different directions.</p><p>            Quirrel tried not to scowl at such a bitter thought, but that was their reality.</p><p>            Except… it didn’t have to be.</p><p>            Why <em>shouldn’t</em> they travel together when all was said and done? Why not travel together starting from Crystal Peak? As he’d noted before, Quirrel’s solitude was self-imposed. He had somewhere to go and had to part ways with those who were not headed in the same direction.</p><p>            He’d been headed to Hallownest. For so long, he’d sacrificed much to find the fallen kingdom, and now he’s found it. There was no other call beckoning him to another far-off land of forgotten tragedies.</p><p>            The idea had his heart skipping a beat. After he completed whatever he was supposed to do there, he was <em>free</em>.</p><p>            Why <em>not</em> go with Ghost to wherever they next wandered?</p><p>            Quirrel glanced down at them. Well, there was always the possibility that <em>they</em> didn’t want to travel with him full-time. They seemed to trust him enough, but between their silence and the sparsity of their meetings, it was hard to tell if they felt quite the same. Perhaps they saw him in the way he saw so many past acquaintances: as a friendly but temporary presence, one to ultimately be left behind when their journey took them elsewhere.</p><p>            There was only one way to find out.</p><p>            “Ghost?”</p><p>            They looked up. Now that Quirrel had their attention, he realized he had no idea how he wanted to phrase such a question.</p><p>            “I’ve felt called to Hallownest for a long time,” he found himself saying. Well, it wasn’t exactly to the point, but it was a start. “Perhaps even before I knew just what I was searching for; I think I’m only just now realizing that this kingdom has been my goal all along.”</p><p>            Ghost pulled away a bit, leaning back on their hands so they could look at him properly.</p><p>            “My point is that I am a traveler with no planned destination. There’s nowhere else I need to be, nor particularly <em>want</em> to be once I leave this place. Well, aside from doing whatever I was called here to do; I still haven’t actually gotten to the bottom of that. I’m referring to afterward.”</p><p>            Too many words. For wyrm’s sake, this was getting ridiculous.</p><p>            Ghost patted his arm sympathetically and then proceeded to gather up their map, folding it back into a more manageable size. They looked down at whatever section wound up on top, almost as if to give Quirrel a moment to recollect his thoughts.</p><p>            The realization made him want to drop the subject and start talking about the view again. After all, he was trying to ask if they were willing to put up with even <em>more</em> of his inane rambling.</p><p>            He heaved a sigh and looked back out the window. It was easier to think without their dark eyes boring into his soul. He tried again.</p><p>            “What I mean to say is that I’ve come to care quite a lot for you and would rather not be parted when we eventually return to wandering. Would you be opposed to me going with you when you leave?”</p><p>            When he looked back at Ghost, they were staring at him. They’d gone absolutely rigid, body tense as if to run at a moment’s notice. They looked scared.</p><p>            Well, that wasn’t a good sign.</p><p>            Quirrel glanced around to make sure they weren’t being attacked, but the cavern was just as empty as it had been before.</p><p>            “I just thought I would ask,” he said quickly. “You certainly don’t have to accept my request if you don’t want to.”</p><p>            In a flurry of motion, Ghost was standing again. They had a strange object in one hand and their map in the other. Their nail was returned to their back.</p><p>            Quirrel tried not to panic. What just changed? Did his question disturb them that much? Was it something else entirely? “If you rather we part after our time here, I understand and will respect that decision. Please do not let my thoughts on the matter influence your choice one way or another.”</p><p>            Ghost shoved their map beneath their cloak and held the other object tight. It was a strange thing, a cord of metal wrapped around an intricate design that resembled a flower.</p><p>            They moved as if it were a nail, bringing the object down in a slashing motion. If the thing had a blade, Quirrel had no doubt he’d be dead. As it was, it passed harmlessly before him, the rounded edge not even coming close to touching his shell.</p><p>            Whatever that meant, it only seemed to scare them more. They took a few steps back and then crouched down. Crystals began to grow at their feet.</p><p>            “I’m afraid I don’t understand what’s happening,” Quirrel tried. He really didn’t, and the way the situation was going only served to confuse him further. He quickly got to his feet though he didn’t know why. If they chose to leave, he wouldn’t stop them, nor would he follow. “Would you please explain? I’m not sure what I did to upset you.”</p><p>            He tried not to let his frustration slip into his voice. He wasn’t truly angry, but he didn’t understand why they reacted that way and they did not look like they intended to tell him.</p><p>The magic at their feet released and Ghost took off. Wrapped in a bright pink light and propelled by some unknown energy, they were gone within the span of a heartbeat.</p><p>            Quirrel found himself staring after them for a long while.</p><p>            The cavern felt even quieter than before, and more empty than it ever had been. Bugs and beasts continued to move just below, but their presence was suddenly of no consequence.</p><p>            Finally, finding he could move, Quirrel looked back at the window as if it held some kind of answer. Whatever just happened, it hurt, but he could only bring himself to focus on how confused he was. He was left in the dark again, unsure of his place and purpose within a larger disaster unfolding around him.</p><p>            Perhaps he should get used to the feeling. It’s been a common theme in his life so far, and he wasn’t exactly hopeful it would change any time soon. Normally, he could find some kind of wonder in it. He did love mysteries, but this particular mystery only left him with an ache in his head and heart.</p><p>Why? Why was all this happening? Did he do something wrong? Cross some boundary he hadn’t known existed? For wyrm’s sake, Ghost wasn’t actually afraid of <em>him</em>, were they?</p><p>            Would they be alright?</p><p>            Quirrel could feel his thoughts begin to loop in a downward spiral. Where was that damn mask marker when he needed it? It would be lovely if he couldn’t think for a few minutes.</p><p>            Drawing his nail, he lashed out at one of the wooden barrels that sat near the wall, hoping the motion might dispel some of the nervous energy that seized his chest. The blade sliced through the old wood as if it were a piece of parchment, cleaving it in two. The top half slid sideways, revealing some old mining equipment at the bottom.</p><p>            The action didn’t make him feel better. Actually, Quirrel felt worse.</p><p>            Suddenly exhausted, he looked back out the window. The view had taken on a more sinister feel, the lights offering no comfort and the distant cliffs held no answers.</p><p>            He needed to move on.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>just a thing from my playthrough that I thought was weird: when I first played Hollow Knight, I found the Howling Wraiths spell early on. Like, really early, so I had it long before I could get through Fog Canyon. By the time I played through a second time, I'd forgotten where it was and eventually looked it up. I have no idea how I found it the first time.</p><p>Also, I only realized after writing this chapter that the Crystal Heart is required to reach some areas Ghost has already been to in this story. Same could probably be said about other ways I twisted the order of events, but I'm just gonna leave it. I think I'm about halfway done with the canon story anyway.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, this is pretty much the end of their canon encounters for the rest of the story. I'll write a Blue Lake chapter, but that will come much later. Until then, I will be bending canon to my will until I am satisfied.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            It would be a lie to say Quirrel didn’t think of the confrontation at Crystal Peak every step of the way to Fog Canyon. No matter how hard he tried to think of something, <em>anything</em> else, his thoughts would circle back around. He replayed the scene over and over, trying to figure out what he’d missed, but no matter how he looked at it, the pieces refused to fit.</p><p>            His life continued to not make sense, and for once, he found himself unwilling to just accept it. Why had everything gone so wrong? He deserved an explanation at least, didn’t he?</p><p>            Not that he expected one to come forth.</p><p>            His overworked mind finally quieted when he entered a cavern set deep within the canyon. A lake of acid took up much of the cavern floor, and the bright green-blue light contrasted strangely with pink-tinted fog. Acid fumes and canyon fog and infection warred in the air, none managing to overpower the other two. All was oddly quiet, each breath echoing against the quiet hiss of the lake. A large structure had been built above the acid, though it looked like portions dipped below.</p><p>            As Quirrel stared, he could practically feel his thoughts shatter and reform in an endless cycle of trying to figure out why he was <em>there</em>, of all places. What did this place mean to him? What would he find inside?</p><p>            Were there answers within those doors? Quirrel had previously thought so, but now he wasn’t sure. Either way, once he stepped inside, there was no going back.</p><p>            He was afraid, he knew, but wasn’t sure of the exact cause. Was he afraid of what might happen to him, or what will happen afterward? Of never having his questions answered, or the answer itself? As long as he loitered outside, all his expectations, both good and bad, remained true. The moment he entered, he would find out which, if any, of his theories were correct, and the mystery that both blessed and plagued him, would be over.</p><p>            Frustrated and nearly sick with indecision, Quirrel took a deep breath, as if the tainted air would help him choose. How long did he have anyway? Given the way the kingdom was hurtling toward some unknown end, he knew he couldn’t stay there forever. The infection was spreading, and whatever luck kept him from succumbing to it thus far would eventually run out.</p><p>            With a pang, Quirrel realized just how nearsighted his fantasy of leaving with Ghost was; he might not be leaving the kingdom at all.</p><p>            Funny how the thought just made Quirrel wish they were there.</p><p>            Funnier still, how his thoughts again seemed to summon them out of the ether.</p><p>            Magic hummed just outside the cavern, the sound growing louder with each heartbeat. Quirrel looked up just in time to see Ghost, surrounded in the same pink light they’d used in Crystal peak, zoom through the air before coming to an abrupt stop just outside the archive door. They dropped down in an explosion of shadow that shook the ground and threatened to crack the building’s foundation.</p><p>            The darkness cleared just in time for Quirrel to see them dash into the building.</p><p>            It all happened so fast, he almost began to question whether it happened at all. Maybe, after everything that had happened since he crossed the Howling Cliffs, he’d finally snapped.</p><p>            But no, that would be far too easy.</p><p>            With Ghost inside the archive, Quirrel had an excuse to further delay his inevitable choice. They obviously didn’t want to be anywhere near him, so he’d remain outside until they left. No sense in creating a scene if they were willing to go to such drastic measures to avoid him.</p><p>            However, the more time ticked by, the more he felt he should follow anyway. He was <em>supposed</em> to be there, and with Ghost already inside, he needed to <em>hurry</em>.</p><p>
  <em>            Their fight would remain impossible if he didn’t.</em>
</p><p>            Quirrel wasn’t sure where the thought came from, only that he was running the moment it crossed his mind. Ghost could hate him forever if they wanted. He was going to make sure they were okay.</p><p>            Passing through the archive’s door felt like passing through a wall of cold water. It wasn’t exactly a straight answer, but Quirrel had been there before. While the ‘why’ was still trickling in, he knew exactly where he was, and, if prompted, could describe the layout of the building from top to bottom.</p><p>            Suddenly, he knew <em>exactly</em> what lurked in the acid pool below.</p><p>            Understanding and meaning continued to flow through his head as Quirrel raced down two flights of stairs, through the hall to the left, and down a drop guarded by lumiflies. He knew why he was there, what he was supposed to do.</p><p>            Oh, <em>wyrm</em>, it all made so much more sense.</p><p>            Did Ghost know? Was that why they’d panicked the way they did? Did they realize the second mask he wore was the same as the seal and think him its guard?</p><p>            Later, he would wonder how it took them so long to notice. He had the excuse of being unable to think every time he looked at the damn thing.</p><p>            In the meantime, he found the entrance to Uumuu’s enclosure.  </p><p>            It was small (the beast had been trained, but no sense in risking escape should the worst happen), a square opening carved into the floor in the center of a hall connecting the east and west wings of the archive. Even from so high up, the bright light of the acid illuminated the otherwise dark space.</p><p>            There was fighting below, and Quirrel leaned over the edge as far as he dared.</p><p>            Ghost raced around the enclosure, alternating between jumping from platform to platform and clinging to the wall. They were far too focused on keeping ahead of Uumuu’s attacks and away from the acid below to notice him.</p><p>            Uumuu chased them at a leisurely pace, slowly drifting in whatever direction Ghost had run. It wasn’t able to attack directly, relying instead on ranged electrical charges and an impenetrable outer membrane that protected its core.</p><p>            Monomon had thought the combination quite ingenious.</p><p>            Quirrel agreed.</p><p>            When he landed on one of the upper platforms, Uumuu was below him. There was a brief pause between its attacks, and Ghost took the opportunity to turn and fire a bolt of dark energy at it.</p><p>            The spell did nothing to the giant jelly form, but it gave Quirrel an opportunity.</p><p>            He jumped straight down, nail held out to slice through Uumuu’s protective covering (and hopefully slow his fall before he hit the acid).</p><p>            There was a roar, and Quirrel leaped free, landing on one of the lower platforms.</p><p>            If Ghost reacted to his sudden appearance, they didn’t have the time to show it. Uumuu’s defenses were down for the moment, but the barrier would repair.</p><p>            They fired another spell before racing forward themself to strike with their nail. They got a few good hits in before the bubble was back, and they had to dive out of the way when Uumuu triggered the electricity grid.</p><p>            The platform Quirrel was on was one of the few that wasn’t covered by the attack. He recalled it being a planned weakness, designed to help him specifically. He was the only one who knew the layout of the grid.</p><p>            As soon as the sparks dispersed, he darted upward, trying to keep up with how quickly Ghost was dodging and thus, drawing Uumuu’s attention. It didn’t even look at him.</p><p>            Was that another planned weakness? She could have at least made it a challenge for him.</p><p>            Then again, <em>Quirrel</em> wasn’t the one being challenged.</p><p>            He dove again, nail cutting through the barrier protecting Uumuu’s core. He was gone a second later, giving Ghost room to do whatever they were going to do. It was their fight. Quirrel was just there to open the way.</p><p>            Ghost was too far down (closer to the acid than he wanted to see them) to get close enough with their nail, so they used that awful screaming spell.</p><p>            Even on the other side of the enclosure, Quirrel felt the sound rattle through his shell.</p><p>            The shock only stunned him for a moment, but it was enough for him to realize he was very much in the wrong place when Uumuu rebuilt its defenses and sent a surge of electricity through the grid.</p><p>            His flailing attempt to get away found him falling more than jumping to one of the lower platforms. The impact hurt, but it wasn’t one of his worse falls.</p><p>            It was made better by the small hand that gripped his, pulling him back to his feet.</p><p>            “I suppose we have a fair amount to discuss when this is over,” Quirrel said.</p><p>            Ghost just looked at him for a moment. Then they sprang up as a cloud of electricity appeared where they’d been standing just a moment before. The attack chased them as they dashed from one end of the enclosure to the other.</p><p>            Quirrel followed as closely as he dared, having to duck out of the way when the grid went live again. There was another lull in Uumuu’s attacks, and he cut open its transparent shell one last time.</p><p>            Directly above this time, Ghost dropped down. Shadows wrapped around them like dark wings and magic crackled in their wake. They shot through Uumuu like a living nail made of void and landed heavily on one of the platforms below.</p><p>            Though he didn’t recall interacting with Uumuu before, Quirrel couldn’t help but feel sad for it as the damaged core thrashed and then went still. The more he stared at the dead jelly form, the more he remembered. Uumuu was the guardian, Quirrel was the failsafe. In a perfect world, he would’ve been able to escort Ghost to the heart of the archive without fighting at all.</p><p>            Speaking of which, Ghost had already gone below. Whether they wanted to see him or not, Quirrel made to follow. He had one last part to play.</p><p>            They were beside Monomon’s tank when he found them. They stood close enough for the acid to cast a green glow on their mask. One hand rested against the glass, the other held the same strange item they’d used back at Crystal Peak.</p><p>            They jerked back in alarm when Quirrel jumped up to join them on the platform.</p><p>            At least he had a better idea of why.</p><p>            “I’m not here to fight,” he told them, leaning his nail against the near wall. He didn’t foresee himself needing it. For the next few moments, anyway.</p><p>            Ghost didn’t necessarily relax, but they were listening.</p><p>            “When the Dreamers were sent to their eternal rest, Monomon worried the plan would fail. I don’t remember how she envisioned such failure, but I suppose I act as failsafe for either case. Her seal would remain unbroken as long as I remained outside of Hallownest, or, upon my return, I can ensure the seal <em>is</em> broken.” Still-foggy memories warred with understanding. Quirrel wasn’t sure what he felt when he stared at the faceless being in the tank.</p><p>            Monomon’s mask was heavy in his hands when he carefully brought it down from his head. Had it always been that heavy? Perhaps, and perhaps not, he didn’t recall. When he held the mask up before the tank, his arms shook for a different reason.</p><p>            The smooth white surface fractured, the shards glowing bright and then dissolving into the air. Soul? He didn’t recall how the key worked or when he agreed to carry it from Hallownest. There was a blinding flash, and Quirrel was sent staggering to the ground.</p><p>            Before his vision even cleared, Ghost was beside him, small hands gripping his shoulder and shaking until he responded.</p><p>            “I’m alright,” he told them. He placed his hand over theirs. “Are you –”</p><p>            Ghost nearly bowled him over, mask colliding with the side of his head. Their arms came around his neck and held on like they expected him to disappear just as Monomon’s mask had.</p><p>            “It’s okay,” Quirrel said. He twisted around, loosening their hold so he could more easily return the embrace, and Ghost all but fell into his arms. They were shaking. “It’s okay,” he said again, though they both knew the promise was an empty one. Still, he repeated it like a mantra, as if saying it enough would make it a reality. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”</p><p>            The two stayed like that for a long while. While he still didn’t entirely understand what had upset Ghost back in Crystal Peak, all seemed to be forgiven. In turn, Quirrel couldn’t really fault them for their outburst. He could only imagine what had been going through their head.</p><p>            As the two calmed, awareness returned. While his memories were far from restored, his understanding of the seals was crystal clear. His part in the great mystery was nearly over, but Ghost still had their role to play.</p><p>            “Go on,” Quirrel told them, though he was reluctant to actually let go. “The teacher calls to <em>you</em> now.”</p><p>            Ghost pulled back and reluctantly pointed to the tank.</p><p>            “She knows what you intend to do, and I believe she wants you to succeed. After all, she called me here to make sure you could.”</p><p>            A nod.</p><p>            Both stood and stepped closer to the tank until an acidic green glow was cast across their shells.</p><p>            Quirrel stared at the figure sleeping peacefully behind the glass. He felt some attachment and thus pain at the thought of what was to happen, but he couldn’t recall many details. Whoever she was to him, even if he never remembered, Quirrel would miss her.</p><p>            Ghost struck at the glass with that strange object (a dream nail, he realized). There was a brief pause where an unseen magic swept through. Then they dropped lifelessly to the ground.</p><p>            Quirrel caught them before they could actually hit the floor. When they didn’t get up, he sat with them until they left the dream world.</p><p>            Despite the influx of memory and information, he felt like his mind was moving slow. There was far too much to think about at once, and truly, he was almost too tired to try. The last few moments had been so full of action and emotion that all Quirrel wanted to do was sleep until his head no longer felt like it was about to explode.</p><p>            He could go to his room. It was on the third floor, just above the main inner chamber. All he had to do was go down the hall, take a right, and…</p><p>            Quirrel found himself staring at the dream nail Ghost still clutched in their hand. He recalled them using it on him back at Crystal Peak, though he wasn’t entirely sure what it did to bugs when they were awake. Maybe that too would come back to him.</p><p>            A bright shimmer of light broke through his thoughts. Within the tank, Monomon’s body glowed as brightly as her mask had. Also like her mask, the light fragmented a moment later, leaving nothing but clear acid in the tank.</p><p>            Her death hurt, but the pain was distant, like the fading memory of a dream come morning.</p><p>            Ghost woke and sat up.</p><p>            “The third seal breaks,” Quirrel said quietly.</p><p>            They looked up and pointed.</p><p>            “Not all my memories have been returned to me, but I understand more than I did before. You’ve taken on quite a burden. It’s quite amazing, how much you’ve already accomplished.”</p><p>            Ghost slowly got to their feet. They were so short that when standing, their head was only a bit higher than Quirrel’s. For a moment, they just looked at him. Then they gently took his face in their hands and leaned in close, pressing their forehead against his.</p><p>            Near stunned by the tenderness of the gesture, Quirrel let them.</p><p>            They pulled away before he could bring himself to ask. They were gone a heartbeat later.</p><p>            Quirrel remained exactly where he was, staring at the empty tank without seeing it. His mind was both spinning and disturbingly empty. So much had happened with Uumuu and Monomon and he was slowly regaining memories and then Ghost did… that.</p><p>            It was a lot to take in.</p><p>            As he sat and tried to make sense of his thoughts (it’s happened so often, he could make a hobby out of it), pieces of memories and understanding continued to drift through his mind. There was far too much to think of all at once, so he tried to grasp one concept at a time.</p><p>            The first was the realization that he was much older than he’d realized.</p><p>            How was that <em>possible</em>? Hallownest fell long ago, and it could be argued that the Dreamers were sent to their rest years before that. Even after losing his memories, wouldn’t he notice just how much time passed while he traveled?</p><p>            Then again, he didn’t exactly keep a calendar on him, and the various places he’d visited kept time in their own way. Perhaps it <em>wasn’t</em> so surprising that so many years had passed him by.</p><p>            The same could be said of Ghost. He didn’t recall when the vessels were created, only that he wasn’t supposed to know about the project at all. However, it must have been around the same time, right?</p><p>            Because the infection had begun to spread. It started in the upper territories of Hallownest, swiftly taking the Howling Cliffs, Crystal Peak, and the Crossroads. Dirtmouth too wasn’t spared, though often considered outside of Hallownest’s rule as the mantises and Deepnest had been.</p><p>            Things had been so desperate back then. Quirrel couldn’t recall details, but he remembered the feeling. A mix of fear and helplessness as he watched more of the kingdom succumb, unable to do anything other than wait for the infection to claim the archives as well.</p><p>            The vessels were the product of some kind of divine insight by the king, created to contain the infection and be sealed away with it in the black egg. Monomon had thought the science sound, but not infallible, and the slow decay of the Hollow Knight proved her right.</p><p>            In his mind’s eye, Quirrel saw the Hollow Knight mask marker on Ghost’s map. They’d broken the seals and the vault could be opened, but what then? The Hollow Knight had failed and the infection returned. Unless contained again, it would ravage what was left of Hallownest, this time leaving no survivors.</p><p>            And as far as Quirrel recalled, there had only been one vessel deemed ‘pure’ (whatever that meant, he never found out for sure). Monomon had lamented just how many had been created and then discarded in the process, and she hadn’t thought any others survived anyhow.</p><p>            Except Ghost. Ghost survived and must have gotten away, only to return around the same time he did.</p><p>            Which was when the Hollow Knight had begun to weaken.</p><p>            As Quirrel leaped to his feet and raced for the archive door, he blamed whatever fog had earlier clouded his ability to connect himself to the Dreamers. Not to be arrogant, but he was usually far more perceptive when putting pieces of history together.</p><p>            Had replacing the Hollow Knight been Ghost’s plan all along? How long had they known? Why didn’t they tell him? Or did they try, and he hadn’t been able to understand?</p><p>            Quirrel’s request to follow when they left Hallownest came back to him. He later thought the idea painfully nearsighted, but to Ghost, it had been an impossibility to begin with.</p><p><em>            They</em> were the one that did not intend to leave the kingdom.</p><p>            Back in Fog Canyon, Quirrel looked around for any sign of them. A section of the wall had been destroyed, but Ghost themself was not there. Did they really go straight to the temple? Was that last moment with them their way of saying goodbye?</p><p>            He wasn’t sure if it was past memory or knowledge gained from his more recent travels, but Quirrel knew the shortest route to the Crossroads and found himself all but flying through the mist. There was no time to bother with the infected; most were too slow to impede him, and those that weren’t were cut down before they knew to react.</p><p>            Something like outrage burned his chest as he ran. What was Ghost <em>thinking</em>? What did they hope to accomplish? The Hollow Knight’s sacrifice had been in vain to begin with, and with each passing moment, their hold on the infection loosened. Did Ghost <em>really</em> think it worth their life, buying the corpse of a kingdom a few more years?</p><p>            Perhaps it was selfish, but at the moment, Hallownest could burn for all Quirrel cared. The kingdom could wither away to nothing and the traces of his old life go with it. Both were unreachable anyhow.</p><p>            But <em>Ghost</em> was still there. They, at least, could still be saved.</p><p>            As long as he got there in time.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>While I'm stupidly happy with 90% of this fic, I do wonder how well I'm balancing what the characters know vs. what conclusions they'd reasonably come to. It's hard for me to gauge this myself since I already know everything that happens in-game, and even when I first played, I was spoiled for a few of the main elements (specific to this chapter is Quirrel's relation to Monomon and the fact that Ghost takes THK's place in the first ending) and because I'm not very observant, idk if or when I would've figured it out for myself. Like, I didn't realize that Quirrel had Monomon's mask until it was pointed out to me, and I don't think I made the connection between orange = infection until the Crossroads changed....</p><p>Long story short, if things are a bit off, it's because I am unobservant and got spoiled on my first run. Hope people enjoy anyway, because I'm still having a great time writing this</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We've officially left canon interactions behind (aside from an eventual Blue Lake chapter). Let's see how well I keep everyone in character now that the training wheels are off</p><p>(also, thank you again for all the nice comments. I really appreciate the feedback and am overjoyed that people have been enjoying this story so far)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            The Crossroads were as bad as Quirrel recalled. Bubbling cysts of infection dotted the walls, casting a sick orange glow upon the rocks, and the air was heavy with their poison. It almost felt alive, a thundering pulse running through the caverns. Veins of infection spread like diseased roots, and Quirrel followed them back to the source.</p><p>            The Temple of the Black Egg stood just as impressive as it had when Quirrel had first seen it. Now, hot gusts of infected air blew through the doors as if the ancient creature that made up the temple was finally able to breathe. Its empty eyes blazed bright.</p><p>            Inside, the black egg itself was cracked open, and the protector of Hallownest, Hornet, stood beside it.</p><p>            “It is a mistake to wander here,” she said as soon as Quirrel stepped through the entrance. “Return to the surface, simple bug. Consider your purpose fulfilled and yourself free of its burden.”</p><p>            “Ghost,” Quirrel said as he approached the egg and its guardian. “Where are they?” He didn’t have time to fight, but he had his nail at the ready just in case. He recalled the last time he’d seen Hornet at the cliffs.</p><p>            Though she held her needle, she made no attempt to raise it. Hornet just looked to the egg. A deep crack ran through the center and then opened up into a larger space, but it was impossible to tell what lay within. All that could be seen beyond the entrance was darkness.</p><p>            That was all the answer Quirrel needed, and he didn’t waste time speaking with her further. Was Ghost at the end? What about the Hollow Knight? Was Quirrel too late or did he still have time to bring them back?</p><p>            “The space within was not built for beings like you and I,” Hornet said, and Quirrel paused just a step from the entrance.</p><p>            “How do you mean?” he demanded.</p><p>            “The vessels are empty beings of void, and the egg was designed to sustain such a creature.” Though lacking warmth, her voice was not unkind. “Those who lack that emptiness will be drained upon entry.”</p><p>            “Will it kill me?” Quirrel looked back to the black emptiness that opened up before him.</p><p>            “Eventually.” Hornet stood by, watching him warily. Still, she did not raise her needle, nor did she otherwise try to prevent him from entering. “You wish to stop them?”</p><p>            “How long?” He didn’t have time for this!</p><p>            “The return will not be easy,” was all Hornet said.</p><p>            It would have to be good enough.</p><p>            He ran through without looking back, the darkness swallowing the infection’s light. It took a moment for the effects of the space to be felt, but as Quirrel plunged deeper into the unyielding black, the air turned cold and heavy. It was hard to breathe, and as he kept running, he could feel <em>something</em> in him begin to fade. Energy? Soul? Life itself? He wasn’t sure.</p><p>            Ahead, a faint light glowed. There was a stone tablet with writing that glowed white, and a simple stone bench. Beyond, was a narrow path, illuminated orange by whatever lay at the end.</p><p>            A small figure stood out, void against the light.</p><p>            “Ghost!” Quirrel’s voice was strangely muted, like sound itself was impeded by the dark.</p><p>            They jumped in alarm and whipped around. When they saw him, they raced back, waving their arms in an attempt to get him to stop, to turn and leave.</p><p>            “Please, don’t do this,” he panted once he was a few steps away. It was getting more difficult to breathe, like the air was closing in on him. “Come back with me. Don’t sacrifice yourself for nothing.”</p><p>            Ghost continued to wave their arms, gesturing back toward the black egg’s entrance. When he didn’t move, they took to physically trying to push him back.</p><p>            Quirrel dropped his nail and grabbed both their hands before they knocked him over (if he fell there, he might not get back up). “The kingdom fell to the infection long before the Hollow Knight began to weaken. <em>There’s nothing left to save</em>. Are you truly willing to throw your life away for Hallownest’s empty shell??”</p><p>            They paused in their frantic gesturing. It was incredible, how at home Ghost looked within the dark hall while Quirrel could feel his energy waning. When they looked at him, it was as if their gaze reflected the void itself. Then again, it probably did.</p><p>            When they pointed, first to themself and then to the path before them, it was deliberate and full of determination.</p><p>            There was that incredible strength of will that he’d found equal parts endearing and exasperating. Why did <em>this</em> have to be the hill they wanted to die on? Why not literally <em>anything</em> else?</p><p>            “Maybe there’s another way,” Quirrel insisted. “We can find another way.” Wyrm, he needed to get out of there. Light was beginning to dance at the edge of his vision, and somehow, that was even more concerning than the surrounding darkness. He reached out blindly and managed to brace a hand against the stone tablet. “<em>Please</em> come back with me.”</p><p>            He wasn’t sure if he’d managed to truly convince them or if they were just worried when his legs gave out a moment later. Either way, Ghost was at his side in an instant. They gripped his hand in both of theirs and crouched down. A familiar pink light began to glow at their feet, and crystals pushed up from the darkness.</p><p>            Quirrel didn’t really have the presence of mind to think more on it. He felt like he was drowning, void and soul dancing before his eyes and the invisible pressure of an enormous force crushing down on him.</p><p>            Ghost’s magic released and they shot forward, dragging Quirrel with them and nearly tearing his arm from its socket in the process. However, the pain was a minor discomfort when compared to suffocating in the crushing dark. Quirrel was more than grateful when the two slammed to a halt and he was dropped unceremoniously onto the temple floor.</p><p>            Infected air made his chest burn as he gasped for breath. The room was spinning and there was a strange ringing in his head, but the fading feeling was gone. He didn’t have the energy to stand, barely had the strength to kneel there and choke on his own breath, but he also no longer felt like he was being drained of life and soul.</p><p>            All the while, Ghost crouched beside him, one hand anxiously patting his back as he wheezed.</p><p>            “If you intend for him to live, I advise you return to Dirtmouth,” Hornet said. She still stood beside the black egg, needle in hand but still not raised to strike.</p><p>            “I’m alright,” Quirrel coughed. “Ghost –”</p><p>            They were already tugging on his sore arm, trying to get him to stand. When pulling didn’t work, they ran around and all but shoved him to his feet.</p><p>            Hornet didn’t say anything else as the two left the temple and she did not follow them into the Crossroads.</p><p>            Though still thick with infection, the air outside the temple was just a bit more breathable, and Quirrel had to take another moment to recover before he could follow Ghost back to the bottom of the well. His legs shook and everything hurt, but at least he could walk while they ran ahead, clearing the path of husks.</p><p>            The climb up the well was almost embarrassingly difficult. Though no longer actively dying (at least, he hoped not), Quirrel had very little strength or energy to pull himself up with.</p><p>Ghost wound up pulling him up the rest of the way. They were much stronger than their small frame suggested. The thought didn’t surprise him.</p><p>They helped him aboveground and he stumbled out of the well.</p><p>            …</p><p>            When Quirrel woke, he was lying on an old and dusty mattress. A ragged blanket had been tossed over him, and the room was dark. He was in a house? It was an old one, cracks running along the walls and dust covering the floor. A broken window suggested he was somewhere in Dirtmouth.</p><p>            “I admit, I did not expect you to survive,” a voice said, and he turned to find Hornet sitting on an old chest set close to the bed.</p><p>            She didn’t seem to be threatening him, her needle resting idly across her knees, but her presence made Quirrel uneasy. He reached for his nail just to realize it wasn’t there. Did he leave it in the black egg?</p><p>            The thought brought to mind a far more pressing issue: where was Ghost?</p><p>            Wyrm smite him, they didn’t return to the black egg, did they???</p><p>            “They did not return to the temple,” Hornet said as Quirrel struggled to sit up. “I do not know where they went, but they requested that I stay with you until their return. I believe I am also to keep you here, should you try to leave.”</p><p>            “It’s kind of you to do as they asked,” Quirrel said, watching her carefully. Not that he knew much about Hallownest’s protector, but she didn’t seem like the kind to take orders from vessels.</p><p>            “I admit, I have my own reasons for being here.”</p><p>            And there it was.</p><p>            Still shaky and more than a little dizzy, Quirrel leaned back against the headboard, far too aware of how vulnerable his position was. His nail was unreachable, and while he did know how to fight without a weapon, he didn’t like his odds against Hornet and her needle. “State your purpose, then,” he sighed, bringing one hand to his head.</p><p>            “You helped the vessel break the seals.” It wasn’t a question.</p><p>            “I did.”</p><p>            “You then prevented them from facing the Hollow Knight.”</p><p>            Quirrel frowned, unsure of what she was getting at. She could have easily stopped him then, so it didn’t seem likely she’d attack him now for it. “I see no point in them becoming yet another sacrifice for a long-dead kingdom.”</p><p>            Hornet didn’t seem to disagree, but neither did she speak.</p><p>            How interesting.</p><p>            “You <em>wanted</em> me to stop them.” He wasn’t asking either.</p><p>            “My wishes are irrelevant.”</p><p>            “Then what is the point to your questioning?”</p><p>            Hornet was quiet again, and Quirrel felt irritation prick at his shell. She didn’t seem like the kind to speak for the sake of talking, but very little of what she did say sounded like the entirety of her intentions.</p><p>            She’d recognized the seal placed upon Monomon’s mask when the two first met and granted Quirrel access to the kingdom because of it. Perhaps she didn’t know who he was, but did she know his purpose from the beginning?</p><p>            “The Pure Vessel was created to contain the infection and its source,” she finally said. “When they began to weaken, the little ghost took it upon themself to fulfill the knight’s duty to the kingdom in their sibling’s stead.”</p><p>            Sibling. <em>Of course</em>. The kingdom’s fate aside, Ghost wouldn’t stand idle when one of theirs was suffering. They’d made that abundantly clear again and again, and after so much work, they wouldn’t be deterred <em>now</em>.</p><p>            And then another part of her explanation stood out to him.</p><p>            “The infection and its <em>source</em>?” He’d initially thought the two as one and the same, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. The infection didn’t just spring from nowhere. In fact, he could recall several sleepless nights spent in the archive, researching the topic. If the source could be <em>destroyed</em>, there would be no need for a vessel to contain it.</p><p>            “As my knowledge comes secondhand, I’d suggest seeking your own answers.” Hornet paused for a moment before adding “You are correct that I do not want them to simply take the role of the Hollow Knight. However, it is not my place to interfere. I would argue that you are likewise unfit to influence them, but I suppose such commentary is made too late.”</p><p>            Before Quirrel could respond to that, the door was kicked open.</p><p>            Ghost’s arms were full of wriggling lifeseeds, the stack so high they couldn’t see around it. A strange mix of orange and blue spattered their cloak, and there were two nails at their back. One was their own, the other was Quirrel’s.</p><p>            “I have done as requested,” Hornet told them. She stood and nodded to Quirrel before stepping around the vessel and heading out the door herself.</p><p>            Ghost dropped everything they held (nails and seeds alike) and all but launched themself across the room. Shadow trailed from their cloak and they landed just short of tackling him. They knelt at his side instead, hands searching for something within their cloak.</p><p>            “I’m glad you –”</p><p>            A piece of parchment was shoved into his face. Quirrel had to take the page from Ghost’s insistent hands before he could actually read it. ‘<em>DO NOT DO THAT AGAIN</em>’ took up the entire page.</p><p>            “I could say the same to you,” Quirrel told them. Still, he was far too relieved to argue. How could he? They were back with him and they were whole and they were very much not in chains.</p><p>            Ghost snatched the paper out of his hands and pointed aggressively to it, specifically the ‘do not’ part.</p><p>            “Yes, yes, I understand.” He held up his hands in surrender. He didn’t exactly intend to repeat the experience, though he would if they went back to the temple.</p><p>That was probably why Ghost rolled up the paper and then lightly hit him on the head with it.</p><p>            Apparently satisfied Quirrel got the message, they hopped off the bed and retrieved one the lifeseeds they’d dropped. The little things had scattered across the floor, bumping blindly into the walls. They squeaked in alarm and started skittering in all different directions when the vessel’s feet touched the ground.</p><p>            “Ghost,” Quirrel said. As entertaining as it was to watch them chase the little seeds around the room, he couldn’t ignore the fact that he still didn’t yet know for sure why Ghost returned with him. If it was just for the sake of his health, they would most likely return to the temple as soon as he recovered.</p><p>            Ghost ignored him, diving across the floor to grab one of the lifeseeds. Only then, did they return to his side. They held up the still-struggling seed and stared at Quirrel expectantly.</p><p>            “Um, thank you, but I’ve recovered enough. It’s not necessary to–”</p><p>            They leaned closer, pushing the lifeseed insistently at his hands. When he still didn’t take it, they jumped onto the bed and shoved it at his face.</p><p>            “I’d comment on your stubbornness again, but I believe you’re more than aware of my thoughts,” Quirrel sighed, taking the lifeseed from them, if just so they didn’t resort to hitting him with it. Still, as exasperating as they were, he couldn’t help but smile. It was easier to appreciate their indomitable will when they weren’t using it to their detriment.</p><p>            Ghost was not as amused. They pointed to the lifeseed and then to Quirrel.</p><p>            “Set aside the lifeseed for now. Will you <em>please</em> talk to me? I know you intend to return to the temple the moment you believe I won’t follow.”</p><p>            Again, they grabbed the discarded paper and held it up. No longer pointing or moving at all, their stare felt nearly as all-consuming as the darkness of the black egg.</p><p>            They were angry with him, Quirrel realized. He’d scared them, possibly as much as they’d scared him.</p><p>            With a sigh, he gently dropped the lifeseed back to the floor and then grabbed Ghost’s hands before they could chase after it again. Unhappy with his actions, they pulled away from him but remained where they were, willing to hear him out.</p><p>            Now that he had their attention, he wasn’t sure where to go from there. What could he say? He couldn’t just ask them <em>not</em> to rescue their sibling, and even if he did, he knew better than to think they would simply give up. They wouldn’t, not after coming so far, not when another’s life was on the line. Convincing them to give up on Hallownest’s hollow shell was one thing, but the Hollow Knight was family.</p><p>            “I don’t want to lose you.” That was the barest truth of it, and in the end, it was all he could think to say. “I know the intended fate of the Hollow Knight, and I’ve seen its reality as plainly as you have, and the idea of the same happening to you…”</p><p>            Ghost looked down at their hands. No longer angry, they looked defeated, head and shoulders drooping as if they carried the weight of the kingdom. Quirrel’s words were not news to them.</p><p>After a moment, they looked back up and gestured limply in the vague direction of the temple.</p><p>            “I know you better than to think I can change your mind, but will you at least <em>wait</em> before again offering yourself as sacrifice? There may be another way for you to save your sibling.”</p><p>            Ghost hopped off the bed and retrieved another lifeseed. When they returned, they again handed it to Quirrel (he took it to avoid another round of insistent shoving) and gestured for him to keep talking.</p><p>            “Hornet mentioned that the Pure Vessel was made to contain the infection and its <em>source</em>. Though I don’t think I got very far with it, I remember researching the same while at the archives. If the source of the infection can be destroyed, there will be no need to contain it.” Unsure of what else he could do to convince them, Quirrel found himself looking down at the lifeseed in his hands. Ghost probably wanted him to eat it. While he appreciated the concern, he had no intention of doing that.</p><p>            After a moment, they picked up their piece of parchment and withdrew a quill from their cloak. They turned the paper over and wrote on the other side.</p><p>
  <em>            ‘If you’re wrong?’</em>
</p><p>            By the gods, Quirrel sincerely hoped he wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t naïve enough to think the odds were good. Better minds than his had tried and failed to stop the infection all those years ago. “If I’m wrong, I’ll escort you to the Hollow Knight myself.”</p><p>            Ghost did not seem to like that idea one bit, but after a moment, they gave a reluctant nod. Quirrel had little doubt that, should that moment arrive, there would be more than a little resistance on both sides, but that was a problem for another day. For the moment, Ghost was still with him. They were safe.</p><p>            They were also trying to get Quirrel to eat the lifeseed again.</p><p>            “You do know that consuming lifeblood is widely considered taboo, right?” Not that he really believed in such things, but whatever negative effects the black egg had on him were not severe enough for him to think it worth trying. He again set the lifeseed aside, and it skittered off the bed and onto the floor.</p><p>            Not to be deterred, Ghost again reached for something within their cloak. Just how much did they store in there? Their map alone was about as big as they were.</p><p>            Three charms were pressed into Quirrel’s hands. Then, after a moment of thought, Ghost grabbed another. He didn’t recognize the designs, but the colors suggested that three had to do with lifeblood, health, or both. It was safe to assume the fourth was similar.</p><p>            “Where exactly are we?” he asked, hoping to distract before they tried to pin the charms on him by force. He gestured vaguely to the dusty room with one hand and subtly pushed the charms aside with the other. “One of the abandoned houses in Dirtmouth?”</p><p>            His actions did not go unnoticed, but Ghost didn’t push the issue. They nodded and brought out their map. It really was about as big as they were, even when folded over several times. It took a moment to rearrange the parchment, but then they had the map of Dirtmouth on top of the pile. They pointed to a small section set just across the street from the stag station.</p><p>            “When I first came to, no, <em>returned</em> to Hallownest, I didn’t explore the town very much.” It still felt strange to say. Though his memory told him one thing, his own feelings reflected another. It was near unbelievable, the idea that he’d seen such sights before without recalling any of it. “My memory is still lacking at best, but I don’t believe I often visited <em>before</em> leaving either. I wonder what mysteries might be found in a town atop an ancient kingdom.”</p><p>            Ghost sighed and leaned over to pat his head, an action now possible since he no longer wore Monomon’s mask. Then they recollected their charms and map and made to retrieve the nails they’d dropped earlier. There was a weariness in how they moved, ignoring the lifeseeds that continued to tumble about the room.</p><p>            It was hard to tell what they might be thinking, even more-so than usual. Did they resent Quirrel’s interference? Were they considering the return to the temple? Perhaps they were deciding where to first look for an alternative. Had they rested at all since breaking Monomon’s seal?</p><p>            “Ghost.” Quirrel moved to get up and barely got so far as the edge of the bed before they were back, hands motioning for him to stay where he was.</p><p>            He’d argue if it weren’t for the fact that the motion had the room spinning again.</p><p>            “Given another day of rest, I’m sure I’ll be more than fit to return to the archives.” At least the Queen’s Station was close to Fog Canyon. The trip was less of a journey and more a short walk to Dirtmouth’s station and then climb up from the station. “There may be more information elsewhere, but seeing as I’m apparently already familiar with the archive’s research, I feel it makes a good starting point.”</p><p>            Ghost pulled out another piece of parchment and scribbled on it for a while before handing it over. <em>‘Stay and heal. I have places to go’.</em> As an afterthought, they took the page back and added <em>‘not the temple’</em>.</p><p>            “And <em>you</em>? If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t look like you’re doing much better than I am. If you insist that I rest longer, I must insist the same to you.”</p><p>            They underlined the ‘<em>I have places to</em> <em>go’</em> part.</p><p>            “And in order to research the infection, I need to return to the archives,” Quirrel pointed out. “Yet you look like you’re willing to draw your nail to keep me here.”</p><p>            ‘<em>I didn’t almost die.’</em></p><p>            “I would argue that’s a matter of opinion.”</p><p>            Ghost gave a slow nod. Then they withdrew an entire stack of unused parchment from their cloak. Surrounded by paper and quill still in hand, the message was rather clear: they had more than enough resources for a proper argument, their unwavering stare accepting the challenge.</p><p>            “Alright, perhaps ‘argue’ was the wrong thing to say. How about a compromise? I won’t leave Dirtmouth until you do.”</p><p>            Truth be told, Quirrel didn’t expect them to agree, so he was a bit caught off guard when Ghost nodded and held their hand out to shake on it. Their swift compliance was highly suspect, but at that point, he would take what he could get.</p><p>            He was happy to go along with things as long as Ghost also took some time to recover, though in the face of the sudden formality, he couldn’t help but add “I’m still not eating the lifeseeds.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As much as the end of Quirrel's character arc itself hurt me, it was made worse by the fact that I did break Monomon's seal last, so when I last talked to him at the lake, I was also on my way to fight Hollow. At the time, I pretty much knew what would happen, but I didn't know there were multiple endings. (I cried when I got the first ending. Was very happy when I realized there are more. Now I'm suffering in godhome lol)</p><p>Hallownest is filled with beautiful scenery and interesting creatures, but I swear, the empty loneliness that comes with the end of the game hits hard, especially if you're playing while rather isolated and feeling half dead yourself (which I was when I first played).</p><p>Last thought: I figure Quirrel would be hit pretty hard by whatever the inside of the black egg does to non-void entities. I mean, Hornet was only able to function long enough to restrain Hollow before she was knocked out, and she's pretty much a demigod.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Like the City of Tears chapters, this could probably have been added to the last chapter, but I thought it worked better separately.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            The agreement with Ghost lasted all of two days.</p><p>            It wasn’t surprising. Honestly, it was a miracle the two lasted even that long. Both were wanderers by nature. Staying in one place for two long made them restless, especially if there wasn’t much to do while they were there. Not to speak ill of Dirtmouth’s residents, but there was only so much one could do in a mostly demolished town with a population of 5 (plus Quirrel and Ghost).</p><p>            To Quirrel’s credit, he wasn’t the first one to cave.</p><p>            Rest came about as easily to him as it did to Ghost, but the trip through the black egg made the downtime an unfortunate necessity. Even as he wandered through Dirtmouth, wondering where Ghost decided to head next, he could feel the echoes of the temple, the phantom pressure of the world coming down all around him.</p><p>            Quirrel found the fact nearly as interesting as it was frustrating. What had been done to the black egg so that it had such an environment? How did beings such as Ghost and the Hollow Knight, not only survive in such spaces, but thrive in them? He’d known that Ghost wasn’t a bug upon meeting them, but were they really so different?</p><p>            He’d ask them, but sometime between one sleep or another, they’d left town.</p><p>            According to Elderbug, they were headed toward the King’s Pass.</p><p>            When he first arrived (returned), the pass had been blocked by a series of cave-ins, so he found a separate path that connected the far cliffside to the ground. However, as he stood at the bottom of Dirtmouth’s side of the cliff, he realized there was a way to climb up to where the bridge used to be. It was hard to tell, but it looked like there was a way in from there.</p><p>            What had the cliffs looked like when he left so long ago? Was Dirtmouth still populated, or had it already been near abandoned? Was the bridge still intact? Did he leave alone, or was he one of thousands who fled to the wastelands in the hope the infection wouldn’t follow?</p><p>            Despite having healed and rested about as much as he could stand, the climb was… challenging. It didn’t take long for him to regret attempting to scale a near-vertical wall, but by that time, he figured it would be more effort to climb down and start again than to just see things through.</p><p>            Hauling himself up onto the edge of the broken bridge left him shaky and breathing so hard he near felt like he was suffocating all over again.</p><p>            Okay, so maybe he should’ve stayed in Dirtmouth just a bit longer.</p><p>            The King’s Pass stared out from a massive archway, the path leading away from the faint light of the town and into shadow. A few recently killed crawlids were scattered along the rock.</p><p>            Once recovered, Quirrel slowly made his way through the pass. The other side looked familiar: he’d tried to pass through that way when he first arrived. The archway was blocked before, a massive stone door separating him from whatever lay beyond.</p><p>            When he found them, Ghost was clearing the area of vengeflies. Their nail swung in a silvery arc and shells clattered to the ground in its wake. Orange pooled at their feet.</p><p>            Quirrel waited for them to finish before speaking. “So much for resting, hm?”</p><p>            Ghost jumped at the sound. They didn’t look pleased to see him, arms waving and gesturing for him to go back the way he came.</p><p>            “I believe our agreement was that I would stay in Dirtmouth as long as you do.”</p><p>            They pulled out their map, fumbled with the parchment for a moment, and then turned it around, pointing aggressively to the page. The King’s Pass and Dirtmouth were both depicted in dark ink, their argument being that they technically hadn’t left.</p><p>            “By that reasoning, I am also still in Dirtmouth and you have no reason to be upset with me,” Quirrel told them.</p><p>            Ghost looked like they were going to argue some more but then just held up their hands. It seemed that they too were wrestling with the strange mix of both urgency and boredom that had been born out of the decision to postpone their confrontation with the Hollow Knight.</p><p>            “Seeing as we’ve both quite recovered and will likely go mad if kept in town any longer, I believe it safe to continue our travels.” As much as he wanted to return to the archives and begin doing something productive, the thought was a bit disappointing. He’d enjoyed knowing that Ghost was close by and not running headlong into danger. It was nice, consistently seeing them on the bench and talking with Elderbug or visiting Bretta or wandering through town.</p><p>            They gave a slow nod and wiped the gore from their blade. Done harassing the local beasts, they gestured tiredly back in the direction of the broken bridge.</p><p>            The two walked back in silence, and Quirrel wondered what was being left unsaid.</p><p>            Despite having two whole days to make sense of what they were going to do, neither he nor Ghost actually tried to discuss their plans. Ghost supposedly had things to do and places to see, but they didn’t seem keen on sharing anything more specific than that. Quirrel really only had one idea, and given he hit a wall in recovering his memories, there wasn’t much that hadn’t already been explained.</p><p>            As it turned out, recovered memories worked much in the way that other memories did, in that it was hard to recall anything specific without some kind of prompt.</p><p>            The longer he stayed in Dirtmouth, the more certain he was that he’d either never seen the town as it is currently, or that he’d passed through so quickly that he didn’t have the chance to create any lasting memories.</p><p>            What might he remember upon returning to the archives? He left before being able to properly process all he now understood. How much time had he spent there? He had a room, though he didn’t recall what it looked like.</p><p>            The King’s Pass opened up to the air, the edge of the broken bridge overlooking the path to Dirtmouth. From that height, the town was more a fuzzy blur in a sea of shadows. Crystal Peak rose up on the other side. What lay beyond that?</p><p>            Once back at the broken bridge, it was hard for Quirrel to think of anything other than how much he wasn’t looking forward to the climb back down.</p><p>            However, Ghost didn’t seem to be in any hurry to return. They stepped close to the edge and then sat down, feet dangling over open air. After a moment of stillness, they gestured for Quirrel to join them.</p><p>            Of course, he accepted the invitation, unable to stifle his smile as he sat beside them. His reluctance to make the climb back to the ground aside, he didn’t imagine he could ever turn down an opportunity to spend time with Ghost.</p><p>            Hmm.</p><p>            A comfortable silence fell over the two, and it was almost as if everything was as it should be. As if Quirrel wasn’t trying to come to terms with a past life he didn’t know he had, as if Ghost’s inevitable confrontation with their sibling wasn’t looming on the horizon, its outcome and their freedom hinging on the slim chance that Quirrel could find a way to cure an infection that the smartest person in Hallownest and a king with foresight couldn’t figure out.</p><p>            The cliffs acted as a barrier between the town and the harsh wasteland winds, but even when on Dirtmouth’s side, he could hear the distant storms. He almost missed the simplicity of the endless expanse of gray. The beasts there were savage, but they were only hungry for food rather than power or knowledge. There was very little story behind the blood that was spilled onto the sands.</p><p>            There was a gentle tap on his hand. When he turned to look, Ghost gesture at their head and then pointed to him.</p><p>            “I still can’t remember very much, though I feel that I know more than I can currently recall.” Quirrel told them. “I’m hoping my return to the archives will reveal more to me.”</p><p>            A pause. Then Ghost slowly pulled the dream nail from their cloak. They held it loosely in their hands, turning it over and over.</p><p>            Though he was rather certain he’d never seen it before Crystal Peak, Quirrel realized he knew some of its history. “An artifact of the moth tribes, I believe, said to be able to cut through the barrier between dreams and reality. Monomon had looked for one at one point, thinking it could help in the fight against the infection, but she wasn’t able to procure one before becoming a Dreamer.”</p><p>            Ghost nodded and didn’t look up.</p><p>            “Back at Crystal Peak, you used it on me. I don’t think I ever learned what it does to waking bugs, though I could hazard a guess.” He’d rather they just tell him, though.</p><p>            Still not looking at him, Ghost tapped their head again. They didn’t look like they wanted to elaborate further.</p><p>            Well, the dream nail was known for being able to break into dreams, as exemplified by Ghost entering Monomon’s dream when they…</p><p>            Bugs didn’t really dream while awake, but really, what were dreams? When not poisoned by light, they were just one’s thoughts running loose while the mind was at rest. When awake, wouldn’t those just be ordinary thoughts?</p><p>            So, the dream nail could read minds. It was a bit of a concerning concept, given the massive breach of boundaries and invasion of privacy, but Quirrel found the idea more intriguing than anything else. He didn’t imagine minds were easy to read. What was it like? What kind of magic had the moths used that allowed them access to others’ thoughts?</p><p>            What had he been thinking of when Ghost used the dream nail on him back at Crystal Peak?</p><p>            Oh right. He’d been panicking because he asked to go with them when they left Hallownest and they reacted with a confusing amount of fear.</p><p>            Ah.</p><p>            Face burning beneath his mask, Quirrel glanced over to where Ghost was still refusing to meet his eyes.</p><p>            “At Crystal Peak… what had frightened you so badly?” There were a million things more important than his personal anxieties, but he couldn’t stop from asking. For all his speculating, Quirrel still didn’t know for sure, and though whatever it was seemed to have been forgiven and forgotten, the uncertainty still clawed at him.</p><p>            There was a very long pause. Ghost fidgeted with the dream nail, endlessly tracing the flower-like pattern carved into the side. Finally, they put it away and tugged a piece of parchment from their cloak.</p><p>            After the ‘argument’ about taking time to rest, they hadn’t really used the extra paper they’d apparently bought from Iselda. Their reluctance made communication a bit more difficult, but really, the choice didn’t surprise Quirrel. He didn’t really mind the inconvenience either; they had their own special brand of silence, and it suited them.</p><p>            Also, watching them scribble out a paragraph just to scratch it out and start over again was nearly as distressing as the initial scene at Crystal Peak had been.</p><p>            It took four tries for them to get their thoughts out. When they finally handed the paper over, it was dripping with ink. The only readable words said ‘<em>Thought you guarded her seal. Thought we’d have to fight’</em>.</p><p>            There was far more to it than that, Quirrel knew, but Ghost was still not looking at him, head bowed in what he thought might be guilt. He would ask another time.</p><p>            “I hadn’t thought much of it until now,” he told them. “But I understand your feelings. Truly, I don’t know what I would have done, facing you in battle. It would be quite the fight, I imagine.” Even if Monomon <em>had</em> called him to defend her seal in that way, would he? Perhaps, if it were against anybody else, but knowing it was Ghost he’d be fighting? Hurting? <em>Killing</em>?</p><p>            The idea was unbearable, but it wasn’t really worth thinking of anyhow. It would never happen. If the two fought, Ghost would win.</p><p>            Far from avoiding his gaze, Ghost was staring intently at him now. Why? What were they looking for?</p><p>            Eager to change the subject, Quirrel looked around for something else to talk about. “It’s strange, knowing how old Hallownest is now and knowing that I lived before it fell. I thought I’d been dreaming of the kingdom while out in the wastelands, but now I wonder if those were memories. I wonder if I’ve been here before, staring down at Dirtmouth and thinking of how surreal it all is, to be able to bear witness to such times. This kingdom has faced the infection twice, and even if I don’t fully remember the first, I’ve had the privilege of being present for both.”</p><p>            Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ghost nod. They seemed equally relieved at the shift in conversation. They twisted around to gesture at the massive doorway behind them. Their other hand made a slashing motion, miming the use of a nail.</p><p>            “Are you saying you broke the door, the giant <em>stone</em> door, down with your nail?” Quirrel recalled the state their blade had been in when he first met them. Yes, that made a lot of sense.</p><p>            Ghost’s casual shrug told him that yes, they did, and that they regretted nothing.</p><p>            “Where did you travel before coming to Hallownest?” Quirrel wondered out loud. “I’ve been quite curious for a while now, but haven’t thought to ask until now.”</p><p>             Ghost shrugged again and waved vaguely at the cliffs behind them.</p><p>            “You came over from the wastelands?”</p><p>            Another shrug. They patted the ground and then pointed to Dirtmouth.</p><p>            “You don’t remember?”</p><p>            No, apparently not.</p><p>            How interesting. Quirrel’s memories of Hallownest had been taken when he left, but as far as he knew, most of his memories <em>after</em> that remained intact. Perhaps a bit fuzzy from years and miles passed, but he did remember.</p><p>            Ghost patted the ground to get his attention and then gestured for him to speak, nodding encouragingly.</p><p>            “Where was <em>I</em> before coming here?”</p><p>            An eager nod. They really wanted to know that badly?</p><p>            He was happy to tell them. Really, he could talk of his travels for hours, and he was pretty sure he did. There had been ancient ruins and desert towns and kingdoms set entirely into a cliffside. He recalled a place beyond the wastelands where the sky turned blue during the day and a million lights gleamed against the dark at night. A civilization set beside an enormous body of water that seemed to stretch just as far as the wastelands did, if not farther.</p><p>            It was a wonderful thing to remember, that despite its sorrows, the world was indeed a beautiful place. Hallownest might have been his point of origin, but there was so much more beyond the dark horizon.</p><p>            Ghost let out a long breath, leaning back on their palms and mask tilted skyward. They stayed like that for a long moment, looking more relaxed than Quirrel had seen them in a while. Then they withdrew another piece of parchment, wrote their message, and handed it over without looking.</p><p>
  <em>            ‘I will save them’.</em>
</p><p>            “You will,” Quirrel agreed, though he found the truth bittersweet. One way or another, he had no doubt they would rescue their sibling, even if they suffered a fate worse than death in the process. “The fate of the Hollow Knight couldn’t be in better hands than yours.”</p><p>            Ghost retrieved their map again. Rather than opening it, they set the folded stack of parchment on the ground between them. They looked to Quirrel and very deliberately brought their hand down on the torn and ragged paper.</p><p>            No, not just the Hollow Knight. They wanted to save Hallownest as a whole. They would save whatever was left of it, anyhow, and Quirrel suspected they’d have the same conviction even if only the Hollow Knight remained.</p><p>            He’d been hasty in calling their intended sacrifice a waste. <em>He</em> still would rather see Hallownest fall if it meant they could avoid an eternity in chains, but it was worth it to <em>them</em>. Of course it was.</p><p>            “Your determination is something of a marvel in itself, you know,” He found himself saying. “In all my travels, I’ve not met a bug who would get as far as you have, who even <em>could</em> go as far as you have for this kingdom.”</p><p>            Ghost didn’t respond to that, but truthfully, Quirrel didn’t expect them to.</p><p>            The silence that settled around them was heavier somehow, weighed down by what would come next. Convincing them not to immediately run back to the Temple of the Black Egg felt like a victory, but he’d only prevented the inevitable. The fight was far from over, and Ghost wasn’t the only one with something to save.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I changed my mind about how I wanted this chapter to go about 4 times. At the very least, I now have a better idea of how the rest of this story will go.</p><p>thank you again to anyone who has commented. I really really appreciate the feedback and am so happy that people have been enjoying this story so far</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            Even after returning to the archives, Quirrel’s memory wasn’t fully restored. Occasionally, he would recall small moments: walking through the hall, arms full with the stone tablets he needed to store; talking to… <em>someone</em> while standing in Uumuu’s enclosure; sneaking into the restricted sections and reading anything he could get his hands on before he got caught; they all felt more like dreams than memories, as insubstantial as the fog that filled the canyon outside.</p><p>            Could that really have been his life? The life of, what, an archivist? A scholar? In truth, he still wasn’t sure what his purpose used to be. His role in protecting Monomon’s seal suggested he’d had some kind of importance, at least to her, but as he wandered the archive halls so many years later, the only impression he had of his past self was that of a simple worker who had a habit of getting into things he shouldn’t.</p><p>            But then, it didn’t really matter. Aside from already knowing how the archive was organized, none of his past life helped him in his current search for information on the infection.</p><p>            There was little to work with. Outside of a handful of fading news articles left scattered around some of the common areas and storerooms, there wasn’t much documentation on the infection itself. Was that a result of the swiftness in which the kingdom had been overrun? Or was there an intention behind the lack of recorded data?</p><p>            He continued to search, of course, but the archives were not as he’d experienced them. How much time had passed since he first left Hallownest? Though he knew the archive’s layout, the place held a fragile and haunted feeling that he knew wasn’t there previously. He knew rooms and locations, but none were as they should be, the effects of time and neglect making themselves known through every hall.</p><p>            Any parchment in the building needed to be handled carefully, the acidic air dissolving the paper and making old ink blur across the page. A fair bit of the archive’s collection had been damaged beyond repair or would take days to sort through, their titles either unreadable or missing altogether. The silk scrolls faired just a bit better, but not by much.</p><p>            The stone tablets were kept in a separate room, one of the larger spaces in the lowest level of the archives. This made up the majority of the collection and was by far the most organized, though some had been broken or stolen or misplaced over the ages. So much dust covered everything that Quirrel nearly felt like he was back in the wastelands.</p><p>            Time passed even slower than usual, and he couldn’t help but think that he’d experienced the same before. It was more than just returning to the place he’d spent most of his past life in, more than wandering halls he’d apparently walked so many years ago. It was that the circumstances and the feelings that came with them were near exactly the same.</p><p>            It was the feeling of helplessness, of knowing that something terrible lingered on the edges of the horizon, too far to feel urgent but still casting its shadow over his every move. It was the restlessness that came with inaction despite working nonstop to try and find the information he needed. The world was slowly ending around him, and there he was, surrounded by various tablets and scrolls and scribbling notes onto a stack of parchment he’d traded Cornifer for.</p><p>            Ghost visited often, and he wasn’t sure if they were doing so more for their sake or his. It certainly wasn’t for updates on his progress; they never stayed long, sometimes only stopping in long enough for him to realize they were there before dashing off again.</p><p>            Though he missed their longer visits, it was comforting to know they were still out there, still exploring, still looking for answers. That they hadn’t returned to the Temple of the Black Egg.</p><p>            Quirrel only started sorting through the acid tubes when he finally hit a solid dead-end with the rest of the archive. There were plenty of medical references and reports regarding infections in general, but very little on the one that ended the kingdom, and even less on the light and dreams associated with it.</p><p>            A few shattered tubes were scattered around the upper levels, but the majority were supposed to be stored in the chamber with Monomon. Given she was one of few creatures who could withstand the acid and she was the one who came up with the near unreadable shorthand the information was written in, it only made sense.</p><p>            Important and classified information was stored this way. It was rather ingenious, though Quirrel had a feeling most of the teacher’s ideas were. Storing potentially dangerous information in such a way near guaranteed that no one else would be able to read it even if they had physical access.</p><p>            So why could Quirrel read it?</p><p>            He tried to focus on that question alone as he sorted through the surviving tubes and studiously ignored the giant empty tank of acid in the center of the room.</p><p>            The tubes at the edge of the room recorded the pieces of Hallownest’s history that couldn’t be found elsewhere. There was a somewhat darker recollection of how the City of Tears was established, and descriptions of the layout of the White Palace, and a collection of notes regarding Hallownest in its earlier days. Records on the first interactions the King had with the common bugs of the land, as well as the moth and mantis tribes, the tentative treaty with Deepnest, the way the Kingdom’s Edge was closed off to most citizens, the Colosseum of Fools and the Hive being considered both outside the King’s reign but within the kingdom’s borders.</p><p>            It all brought to mind Ghost’s map and the places in the Kingdom’s Edge they’d pointed out to him back in Crystal Peak. There was no record of the place they’d marked as ‘the cast-off shell’, and he wondered why. It was possible the place simply didn’t exist in the older days, but Quirrel felt there was more to it than that. After all, that was where Ghost had gotten the King’s Brand.</p><p>            The closer to the center of the room (Monomon’s tank), the more serious the information became. There were brief documents on the King’s inner circle of knights, a few descriptions of the King himself, and a handful of broken notes regarding the creation of wingsmoulds and kingsmoulds. Each acid tube seemed to hold even less information than the last.</p><p>            Monomon wasn’t one to simply withhold information, even the dangerous kind. Was she not given access to more than that? Were some of the tubes destroyed over time?</p><p>            What exactly had the King been hiding?</p><p>            Despite how frustrating it was, Quirrel found it rather incredible that, even after regaining memories of times long since passed, Hallownest still had mysteries for him to unravel.</p><p>            A single footstep made the floorboards creak and he reached for his nail. Upon turning to face the intruder, he realized it was Hornet who had entered the archives. She stood close to the stairs, still and silent, watching his reaction carefully.</p><p>            “Hello again,” Quirrel said. Her stance was relaxed (as relaxed as he’d ever seen her, anyway) and her needle was lowered, but he couldn’t help but remain on edge. “May I ask what has brought you to the archives?”</p><p>            “You have not left the kingdom.”</p><p>            Their first encounter fresh in mind, Quirrel gripped his nail just a bit tighter. “Are you telling me that I should?”</p><p>            “I am expressing surprise that you haven’t already,” Hornet replied. “Your duty here has been fulfilled, all ties to this kingdom and your life within have been dissolved. I thought you to be a traveler.”</p><p>            It wasn’t likely that she’d taken the time to speak with him just to question his travel plans. Her sudden appearance coupled with being cooped up in the archives for too long made him restless, and the renewed urgency of his task made his claws itch. “Forgive me for being blunt, but I have neither the time nor patience for small talk. Why are you here?”</p><p>            “It is my understanding that it is upon your request that the little ghost has not returned to the temple.”</p><p>            This again?</p><p>            “I understand your reasoning,” Hornet continued. “but I question theirs. I did not realize the extent of the influence you hold over them.”</p><p>            “Do you mean because they’ve actually done as I asked?” The comment was equal parts bewildering and amusing. “If it is any comfort to you, I am equally surprised.”</p><p>            “And yet, you manage to keep them from their purpose.”</p><p>            Oh, he wished he could. He <em>really</em> did.</p><p>            “I believe it’s more accurate to say that I’ve delayed the inevitable,” Quirrel sighed. “I don’t believe myself capable of standing against such a will, and I’m not interested in trying. However, you knew this when we spoke in Dirtmouth. Why bring it up now?”</p><p>            “Before, I didn’t realize the extent of their attachment to you.” Hornet was beginning to sound agitated though she didn’t move an inch from where she stood. Her needle twitched at her side but did not rise to strike. “I thought their initial hesitation to be in response to your recklessness, and their later decision to be in the logical pursuit of an alternative response to the infection. The fact that they keep returning to this place, to <em>you</em>, has suggested otherwise.”</p><p>            Quirrel decisively did not like where the conversation was going. “I don’t see how that is relevant or, really, any business of yours.” Also, why did she know that? He figured she was aware of most of what went on within the kingdom’s borders, but was she actively stalking them?</p><p>            “I do not maintain the misguided belief that they truly have no mind or agency of their own, but I do know that their success hinges on the emptiness of the void they maintain. I said before that I too do not wish for them to be another pointless sacrifice for this kingdom, but the ghost of Hallownest has sacrificed too much themself and has come too far to be tarnished by attachments now.”</p><p>            Wait, what?</p><p>            “I don’t know what occurred here when they broke the last seal,” Hornet continued before Quirrel could speak. “but I ask that you leave it behind. Stop pursuing them. You are free to leave this dying land, and I suggest you do so while you still can.”</p><p>            Apparently unexpectedly dropping strange revelations and then leaving Quirrel to flounder for their meaning ran in the family.</p><p>            “I think you misunderstand,” he said slowly. He wasn’t even sure that <em>he</em> fully understood what she was saying, but her words still <em>felt</em> wrong. “Anything Ghost does or doesn’t do is entirely up to them; this has been true since I first met them and most likely has been long before then as well. As for myself, I’ve told you: I stay because I’d rather they avoid an eternity containing the infection. I’m not pursuing…”</p><p>            Quirrel found himself unable to finish the statement since, well, he kind of was, wasn’t he? He’d never thought so in so many words, but he felt the term wasn’t entirely inaccurate. He had a feeling he and Hornet had slightly different contexts in mind, but still.</p><p>            For wyrm’s sake, that was a thought for another time.</p><p>            Preferably a time where the kingdom’s protector wasn’t staring at him like he’d just turned her world upside down.</p><p>            “Why are you talking to me about this anyway?” Quirrel’s claws tapped impatiently against the hilt of his nail. Couldn’t she just leave? At that point, he’d be more comfortable if she went back to threatening violence. “If you’re so concerned about their <em>attachments</em>, shouldn’t you speak to Ghost themself?”</p><p>            “Vessels cannot speak,” Hornet said distractedly. She looked away in an almost nervous way. “And ‘ghost’ is not a name, just a –”</p><p>            “If you think the silence stops them from communicating, then I’m afraid you haven’t been paying attention.” At all. Not even a little bit. Actually, it was quite amazing how much they were able to say through their silence when given the chance. “And ‘Ghost’ is what <em>they</em> asked me to call them.”</p><p>            He was also beginning to think it doubled as a summoning charm.</p><p>            In the silence of Hornet collecting her thoughts and Quirrel weighing the pros and cons of directly asking her to leave, the little vessel came barreling down the stairs. One hand gripped their nail as they stumbled to a halt, standing between the two bugs. They looked ready for a fight.</p><p>            “Hello again,” Quirrel greeted them. “I’m afraid I haven’t made any more progress since your last visit. Monomon’s personal collection of knowledge is extensive on many subjects. Unfortunately, the infection and relating topics do not seem to be one of them.”</p><p>            Ghost nodded, though they were looking at Hornet. They went very still, hand still gripping their nail though they didn’t raise it.</p><p>            Seeing the two together made it easier to see the family resemblance. Both stood still as statues and silent as the night, studying each other in a way Quirrel was sure he didn’t fully understand. There was an air of ancient power that surrounded the two, and the feeling was only strengthened by the closer proximity.</p><p>            Finally, Hornet turned to leave. She offered no explanation or farewell before sending a cord of silk up the staircase and then following it to the upper floors.</p><p>            Quirrel considered stopping her and demanding she answer the millions of questions she’d left him with, but then he let the thought go. He also really wanted her to just leave. He doubted she would give up her secrets anyhow.</p><p>            Ghost tapped his hand insistently. When he looked down, they pointed to the stairs with their nail.</p><p>            “I’m not entirely sure what she was doing here,” Quirrel told them. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to try and explain either.</p><p>            Undeterred, Ghost tapped their head and then pointed more aggressively, first at the stairs again and then at Quirrel.</p><p>            “She is apparently concerned about your detour from confronting the Hollow Knight. Specifically, the fact that said detour has brought you back to the archives so often.” He wasn’t sure how to phrase the rest of it.</p><p>            Though they didn’t look entirely satisfied with the answer, Ghost nodded and made to return their weapon to their back. Mid motion, they changed their mind and held up the blade for Quirrel to see.</p><p>            The nail gleamed so bright it nearly glowed, a silvery shine over pale metal. Intricate designs were carefully scratched into the side, and the edge looked sharper than any he’d seen before.</p><p>            “The nailsmith has outdone himself,” Quirrel told them. “If a finer weapon exists in Hallownest, I certainly haven’t seen it. In this life or the last.”</p><p>            Ghost put their nail away and held up their hands in a series of gestures. Whatever they were trying to say, it looked sad.</p><p>            “If you don’t intend to take off immediately, may I invite you to come sit with me for a moment? It’s been a time since Dirtmouth and I’d love to hear more of your travels. I would also like to discuss my next move. The archives have not given me much to work with. However, if the knowledge isn’t here, it might be somewhere the King had less influence over.”</p><p>            Ghost nodded, looking quite relieved.</p><p>            “Alright. Just let me retrieve my notes.”</p><p>            Said notes were a bit scattered throughout the room. Most sat beside the acid tube the notes were on, but a few pages were also strewn across the floor with the various stone tablets and scrolls and surviving paper articles Quirrel had been looking at earlier. Still others had been misplaced and set down in random locations when his mind shifted topics faster than his hands could.</p><p>            “Unfortunately, there aren’t many records of the infection itself,” he explained as he recollected the various papers. “I’m not sure if it was due to purposeful censorship or because things happened too fast for proper studies to be done. Either way, I haven’t found any direct references that could tell us anything we don’t already know.”</p><p>            Ghost slowly trailed behind him. The collection of acid tubes looked to fascinate them, but they were still listening as they wandered. Their mask reflected the tubes’ acidic green glow.</p><p>            “The infection affects dreams and has to do with light,” Quirrel continued, and he couldn’t recall if that knowledge was from recent or previous studies. “Our talk of the dream nail made me think we might find more by studying the old moth tribes since they had to do with both, but the archive’s history section doesn’t go back further than the building of the City of Tears.” Which was a fair way back (especially now) but not when compared to the entirety of the King’s rule, and especially not when compared to whatever groups occupied the land before.</p><p>            After a few moments, Quirrel realized Ghost was no longer following him. He turned back to find them standing before two acid tubes that sat very close to Monomon’s tank. They stared as if they couldn’t see anything else.</p><p>            “I haven’t gotten to those yet,” he said, joining them on the other side of the acid. “Did you find something?”</p><p>            The information stored within the two tubes was even more vague than anything else he’d found. Even with his understanding of Monomon’s shorthand, he wasn’t entirely sure of the full description. He could tell the subject, though.</p><p>            “These are about the vessels,” he muttered, trying to make sense of the way the information was written. It was almost as if the tubes had been damaged, leaving some parts unreadable or missing altogether. In other places, certain words and letters seemed to have been replaced, giving another layer to the already established shorthand.</p><p>            Ghost was still staring, though they turned their attention to Quirrel rather than the acid tubes. They pointed.</p><p>            “I can try to decipher these,” he told them. “Monomon must have thought the information incredibly dangerous to keep if she took another measure to make sure they couldn’t be read.” Even by him.</p><p>            “I believe the first is about the Hollow Knight, stating their original purpose to contain the light and be sealed away within the Temple of the Black Egg. The second is about vessels in general. How they function, I think…” he trailed off and glanced down to where Ghost was still staring at him expectantly.</p><p>            The information before him spoke of vessels like tools or containers, an ambitious project taken on by the King and nothing else. The way Hornet had spoken about Ghost made quite a bit of sense, especially if this was all she knew of them outside of a few brief interactions.</p><p>            Ghost reached up and patted his hand, gesturing for him to continue.</p><p>            “It states that they, <em>you</em>, are made up of liquid void held within an empty shell. It also talks of an absence of <em>something</em>, but I’m not entirely sure what.” Truly, it could refer to a lot of things, though Hornet’s words narrowed down the list. “I believe this described absence was maintained in order to contain the infection, though it doesn’t say how.”</p><p>            The entire thing made Quirrel feel a bit sick. Monomon had found the science to be sound, and in theory, it was. A terrible infection ravaged the kingdom, corrupting the mind and then body of its victims. What better way to contain such a thing than an empty being with no mind to overtake?</p><p>            Oh, but she had no idea how wrong the Pale King was. If the rest of the vessels had <em>half</em> the character that Ghost did, there was no possible way for them to be as empty as the plan had required. Though he’d suspected it before, it was quite disheartening to realize just how doomed the Hollow Knight had been from the start. Perhaps the King’s rumored gift of foresight didn’t reach quite as far as he’d wanted the common bugs of Hallownest to believe.</p><p>            Quirrel absently reached for a blank piece of parchment, intending to record his thoughts on the matter, but Ghost grabbed his hand before he could.</p><p>            “I’m afraid that’s all I can understand at a glance,” he told them. “It might take a bit of time, but I can –”</p><p>            Ghost shook their head and tugged on his hand. They pointed to the stairs and jumped up and down, impatient even as they all but dragged him forward. They wanted to show him something, and they were very excited to do so.</p><p>            “Alright, alright,” Quirrel couldn’t help but laugh as he tried not to trip after them. “I’m right behind you, there’s no need for force!”</p><p>            Ghost ignored him, dashing their way back up the stairs. Their hold on his hand didn’t release until both were stumbling over the top step.</p><p>            “Interestingly enough, the archives were strictly built to <em>store</em> the kingdom’s knowledge, not to share it,” Quirrel commented as Ghost skipped toward the nearest table. “I recall reading at these tables after everyone else had left, but that wasn’t their purpose. I don’t really know why they’re here, actually, since food wasn’t allowed in here either…”</p><p>            For once, Ghost didn’t seem to be listening. They stood on one of the chairs, not bothering to sit, and proceeded to toss their map, journal, and a stack of blank parchment onto the table in front of them.</p><p>            “Might I ask what this is all about?” Quirrel asked, taking the seat across from them.</p><p>            They opened the journal to the page they wanted and then slid it across the table. While Quirrel looked, they opened the map.</p><p>            The page was open again to the entry on their ‘siblings’. The title didn’t make sense when Ghost first showed him, but now that he recalled more about the vessels, he wondered if the description was literal. One of the clearest memories he had was of Monomon lamenting how much had gone to waste when only one Pure Vessel had come out of so many failed subjects. Is this what became of them?</p><p>            The map was likewise passed across the table, turned around so Quirrel was looking at it in the right direction. Ghost pointed out a place at the very bottom, marked as the Abyss.</p><p>            “You tried to tell me of them before,” he said slowly. “The Abyss. This is where you’re from, isn’t it? It’s where…” Where all the discarded vessels were locked away after the Hollow Knight had been chosen.</p><p>            Ghost nodded. They tapped the Abyss again, looking thoughtful. Then they pointed out what looked to be the entrance.</p><p>            Quirrel imagined the door had been sealed shut in some way. The King had gone to such lengths to hide his research on the void that it only made sense he’d likewise hide away his failures. The successful vessel, the Hollow Knight, had barely been recorded outside its memorial in the City of Tears. Knowing that, it was surprising that he didn’t just <em>destroy</em> the vessels that remained.</p><p>            Then again, he had been a scientist and engineer. It was good practice to save past iterations of a project, no matter how badly they failed or how damning the evidence.</p><p>            The entry to the Abyss was drawn as a door. A door that had been sealed shut by the King.</p><p>            The reasoning for the brand on Ghost’s back suddenly made a lot more sense.</p><p>            “I suppose, if I can’t find any more on the infection itself, researching the beings made to contain it might lead somewhere. The King had to have taken the infection’s nature into account when designing…” There it was again. It was hard to avoid words that made the Pale King’s attempt to play god sound as little more than an interesting feat of engineering.</p><p>            Ghost patted the table, head tilted curiously as he trailed off. They gestured again for him to keep talking.</p><p>            “Forgive me, it’s just that I have trouble reconciling the King’s project with, well, with <em>you</em>.”</p><p>            They waited for him to elaborate.</p><p>            “I knew before that the King created the vessels, but it’s something else entirely to speak of them, of you, in the way such a context implies. It feels wrong to refer to you that way, like an artificial thing designed as a tool to be used, especially when I know that was the original intent.” Especially when he knew the truth strayed so far from that false assumption.</p><p>            Ghost did not seem to share his reservations. They tapped the table thoughtfully, still looking over their depiction of the Abyss. When they turned back to Quirrel, they held up their hands in an indifferent manner.</p><p>            “In my defense, you’ve had more time to come to terms with the manner of your creation. I was just <em>recently</em> blindsided by your ties to the King and kingdom.”</p><p>            Ghost gave an understanding nod. Having shown him what they wanted, they pointed to the notes Quirrel still held.</p><p>            “Yes, well, as I said, I haven’t made much progress since the last time we spoke.” He had to take a moment to sift through the contents. Not everything he wrote was relevant or made sense, and every page bore evidence of a disorganized mind and far too little sleep. He set down the relevant pages and hoped the thoughts he’d scratched onto the pages made sense. “As I said before, all articles on the infection only restate what we already know: that it starts with dreams and then progresses to mindless rage and violence, physical strength often increasing the further the infection spreads.</p><p>            As you’ve probably realized, the orange eyes are the first sign; I remember the informative posters that warned about it. We were encouraged to turn in anyone who started showing symptoms. At first, the idea was that they would be taken somewhere for treatment. As you can imagine, that quickly became impractical and wasn’t possible anyhow.” He hadn’t been there for the first of the executions, but he’d read the few reports he’d been able to sneak from Monomon’s quarters. Or maybe that was a separate incident? He was fairly certain that was how he’d first gained the teacher’s attention, which happened <em>before</em> the infection.</p><p>            Movement caught Quirrel’s eye and he realized Ghost was waving a hand in front of his face.</p><p>            “Oh, um, sorry about that.” He tried to refocus on the papers in his hands. Maybe there was another reason they were so chaotic. “It seems my memory only likes to return to me whenever most inconvenient.”</p><p>            Ghost didn’t seem to mind, enthusiastically gesturing for him to continue. They’d abandoned their chair and were sitting on the table, legs kicking idly as they listened.</p><p>            “Back to the topic at hand, I believe I’ve learned more from what has been excluded from the archive’s collections than what remains. While there are many articles missing or damaged beyond saving, the holes in Hallownest’s recorded history are too numerous and too specific to be created by chance. The King was known for being reclusive, and though she was loyal, Monomon never fully trusted the secrets he kept. I suppose I now know why.</p><p>            “While I don’t doubt that every possible measure had been taken to keep such knowledge hidden, I also believe that it must exist <em>somewhere</em>. If the King was truly such an engineer, he would have kept his notes around, both regarding the vessels and what they were intended to contain. I can understand the desire to keep Hallownest’s citizens ignorant of certain topics, but I doubt the King was foolish enough to erase traces of the past entirely.”</p><p>            Then again, even with divine foresight, he did inadvertently bring about the fall of the kingdom by placing his faith in the emptiness of an artificial being that turned out to be far from empty <em>or</em> artificial.</p><p>            “The trouble will be figuring out <em>where</em> he put all of the information he’d deemed too dangerous to be known by the public. If not in the archive created specifically to store the knowledge of the kingdom, then I imagine he’d try to keep things close to where he worked. However, even within the recorded layout of the White Palace, I found no records of a lab or workshop, and the palace has supposedly vanished from history anyway.”</p><p>            Ghost turned to pull their map close again. They pointed out a space within the Ancient Basin that was labeled as the Palace Grounds.</p><p>            “I haven’t been there to find out for myself,” Quirrel admitted. “Are the rumors wrong?”</p><p>            They shook their head.</p><p>            “Still, I feel it might be worth it to look through whatever remains of the area. I might head down after going through some more of the information here. I wasn’t able to fully delve into what was stored within the acid around Monomon’s tank, and though I doubt I’ll find anything too useful, learning more about how the King created his wingsmoulds and kingsmoulds might help me better understand how and where he worked on the vessels.” He hoped so, at least. If he truly couldn’t find anything else, his next idea was to scour the City of Tears, and given his last trip to the kingdom’s capitol, he’d prefer to avoid aimlessly wandering those rainy streets again.</p><p>            Ghost was still for a long moment before nodding slowly. Then they reached for their map and folded it before returning it to their cloak.</p><p>            So, they were leaving already.</p><p>            Quirrel was almost surprised at how much he wanted them to stay. He’d missed them, missed their company and quiet presence, especially after spending so much time alone and surrounded by the ghosts of his past. He found himself looking back to his notes, searching for something else he could show them.</p><p>            Hornet’s words came back to him and he tried not to wince.</p><p>            If Ghost noticed the shift in his focus, they didn’t show it. They also made no move to get off the table. With their map stowed away, they next reached for their journal, closing it slowly.</p><p>            “Where have you traveled since Dirtmouth?” Quirrel asked before he could stop himself. “Though this isn’t your first visit to the archives since then, you’ve never told me about where you went after leaving town.”</p><p>            Apparently, Ghost had been waiting for that question. They opened their journal and quickly flipped to another page.</p><p>            Like always, Quirrel wasn’t entirely sure of the stories they were telling. They apparently fought a void-like entity called the Collector, but he wasn’t sure how their doodle of baby grubs fit into things. There were also several pages on dead warriors, some of which Quirrel recalled hearing about from his past life. Ghost enthusiastically drew their nail and slashed it through the air with each entry.</p><p>            Charms were brought out and set upon the table when the new journal entries ran out.</p><p>            “You must have quite the collection by now,” Quirrel commented and tried not to show just how relieved he was that they hadn’t left yet.</p><p>            Ghost nodded and held up one charm in particular. It looked like a mask, dark horns curling from the top and black lines striking through red eyes that almost looked like they were glowing.</p><p>            “I don’t recognize that one,” Quirrel told them. It was true, so he wasn’t sure why he felt his stomach sink at the sight of it.</p><p>            They were moving on before he could really question it.</p><p>            After the charms, other artifacts were brought out. They had several journals apparently collected from dead travelers. They intended to sell them somewhere in the City of Tears, and if he had the time, Quirrel would’ve asked to read them first.</p><p>            There were other old relics from Hallownest’s past and a confusing story that might have had to do with the nailsmith. They brought their map back out and showed him the remains of a crushed flower with pale petals. It had something to do with a place called the Resting Grounds, but Quirrel wasn’t sure exactly what the connection was.</p><p>            A lot of what they told him went over his head, but more than that, Quirrel was enjoying seeing Ghost so animated. It was a nice change from looking like they were trying to balance the weight of the world on their shoulders. He knew it was just a brief respite from their fight against the infection, but it brought a smile to his face anyway.</p><p>            Finally, they ran out of things to tell him about. Ghost looked at their map and journal and charms and artifacts that were scattered all over the table but seemed reluctant to put everything away.</p><p>            “Where do you intend to go now?” Quirrel was just curious. He didn’t ask just so they would take the time to try to explain.</p><p>            A shrug. Ghost picked up their map, looked at it for a brief moment, and then set it down again. They pointed to the pages of notes he still held.</p><p>            “I’m afraid I’ve told you all I found that was relevant to our search,” he sighed. “The rest are my own commentary on just about everything else I’ve read since returning to the archives. I was technically not allowed to study the knowledge stored here, though I recall doing so anyway. I suppose my return also brought back to me the tendency to get sidetracked from what I’m supposed to be doing.” Truthfully, he never lost the habit of getting sidetracked by that which interested him. It was just that it had been a while since it applied to reading material.</p><p>            Either way, Ghost didn’t seem to care. They pointed again to the papers he held, nodding in an encouraging way. When Quirrel didn’t move as fast as they wanted, they pushed aside their journal and map and scooted aside so he had more room to display his findings.</p><p>            Maybe they wanted a reason to stay just as much as he did.</p><p>            “Well, only if you <em>insist</em>,” he joked. As if he would actually pass up an opportunity to talk about what he’d discovered.</p><p>            Quirrel set his notes down and grabbed whatever wound up on top of the pile. “Though suspiciously incomplete, what I did find regarding Hallownest’s history was fascinating. As I said, the collection starts with the construction of the City of Tears…”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I think the idea of the archive being made to store information and not share it came from a separate journal that was published a while back (I've never read it, just heard of it). While I also enjoy the idea of the archives being something like Hallownest's version of a university, I think the idea of Quirrel being a chaotic entity that broke rules left and right just because he liked to learn is hilarious.</p><p>I also think that if the circumstances were different, Hornet and Quirrel could be decent friends. I might explore that sometime in a different fic since here, Quirrel still kinda thinks she's going to attack him at any moment and Hornet thinks he's jeopardizing Hallownest's last chance to be infection-free. Ghost just wants everyone to get along.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            The second trip to the City of Tears brought nearly as much anxiety as the last had. The echoes of past lives and deaths whispered their secrets beneath the hiss of the rain, and the feeling of decay hung as heavily in the air as the water did.</p><p>            At least now, Quirrel knew why the place affected him so much.</p><p>            Even as he carefully wandered down one of the drenched roads, he knew he never called the city ‘home’. He was fairly certain he’d lived there at some point, but it had been a temporary arrangement, necessary for… something. He was there, did whatever he was supposed to do there, and then left, either returning to the archives or heading on his way beyond the cliffs.</p><p>            The city was sealed off as soon as he departed (or maybe that was why he’d left in such a hurry). He wasn’t there for the brief period of false security or the carnage that followed, but the shadow of what <em>could</em> have happened haunted his steps even outside of Hallownest. He could have so easily been caught up in the same tragedy as everyone else. How had he gotten so lucky? Why was <em>he</em> allowed to escape when so many others could not?</p><p>            The knowledge brought with it the clarity he’d lacked before, which was good since Ghost wasn’t there to protect him this time. The husks posed little threat and the guards, well, given what happened last time, Quirrel tried to avoid the guards entirely. There was no need to tempt fate if he could avoid it. He still found it hard to look at the canals when he crossed them.</p><p>            As before, he paused when he reached the courtyard and the memorial fountain for the Hollow Knight.</p><p>            It was strange, putting a face to the being he and Ghost were working so hard to save. After all the work put into finding a way to destroy the infection’s source, maybe their sad tale could finally end on a happier note. Quirrel wasn’t hopeful, but it was a nice thought.</p><p>            After Ghost’s last visit, it hadn’t taken long for Quirrel to get through the rest of the acid tubes. Even after translating Monomon’s added code, he discovered little useful information. Too many pieces were broken or missing.</p><p>            Aside from the White Palace itself, he figured the City of Tears would be his best bet for more information. It was the capitol city of the kingdom, after all. His memories of the place were even spottier than those of the archives, but he felt like there had to be <em>something</em> there.</p><p>            The search would be easier if he at least had an idea of where to start looking. A few locations stood out in his mind, but nothing felt familiar and everything looked the same. As much as he preferred to explore without the aide of a map, he couldn’t help but think one might make things go a lot faster. Maybe he should return to Dirtmouth and see if Iselda could sell him one.</p><p>            Whatever his next move was, standing around wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Without Monomon’s mask, his bandana offered little protection from the rain. He’d lingered long enough; the Hollow Knight wouldn’t be saved through staring at its memorial.</p><p>            Proper planning wasn’t a real possibility, so Quirrel wound up wandering down the next street he saw.  He tried to remember, to see if he could recall anything more specific about the city’s layout. The best he came up with was the vague image of a sinister-looking building that housed something <em>very bad</em>. This information was not helpful since he had no idea where it was, just that he’d avoided the area when he was last there.</p><p>            And if all he had to go off of was a bad feeling, it could be anywhere within the city. Even after knowing his relation to the place, that he hadn’t even been there when the barriers and fates of the citizens were sealed, he felt like death shadowed every footstep.</p><p>            Was there something else he was forgetting?</p><p>            The road he followed passed beneath a covered area, overhead walkways and terraces blocking the rain. There weren’t any husks wandering about the area, though ancient shells still littered the darker corners.</p><p>            Closer to the other side of the alley, there was evidence of a more recent struggle. The husks there were still leaking orange onto the damp rocks, their bodies sliced open by a blade so sharp that their shells didn’t even crack.</p><p>            As he paused, Quirrel realized he could hear a voice beneath the endless drip of the rain. It was so quiet he nearly mistook it for another imagined whisper of the past, but as he listened, the muted conversation continued.</p><p>            The sound came from somewhere above. The buildings within the city were huge, numerous floors with numerous functions only adding to the complexity of the city’s layout. An elevator sat nearby, though the carriage was missing, having been called to a higher floor.</p><p>            Time and damp air rusted the lever that called the elevator back, and as he forced it to move, Quirrel wondered again why Ghost resorted to striking them with their nail. Wouldn’t that just be harder?</p><p>            Chains and gears creaked as the elevator returned, though the sound was just a bit less ominous than that of the first he’d used to enter the city. The carriage landed with a quiet thud, and he stepped inside as soon as the gate sprang open.</p><p>            The floor above was dryer, and the sound of the rain grew faint. The air smelled strongly of dust and mildew, a bitter fog that cut through the sweeter smell of infection. A series of doors led off from the main hall. Most were closed and gave little hint as to where they led. Others were left open or broken off their hinges, revealing the destroyed remains of shops and vendors.</p><p>            The voice spoke again, though still too muffled to understand. It came from behind him, and Quirrel turned to see a sign pointing out a half-opened door at the close end of the hall.</p><p>            The words grew clearer the closer he got.</p><p>            “No, I will not pay any more than that. My prices are final.”</p><p>            There was a rapid <em>tap, tap, tap</em> sound in response.</p><p>            “I said no! I don’t care that you lost your money, that is no business of mine. I told you how much I would pay for those relics and I stand by that.”</p><p>            When Quirrel finally eased the door open a bit more, it was to the sight of Ghost jumping up and down and waving their arms insistently at the bug that stood on the other side of the front counter. When the bug continued to look unimpressed, Ghost resorted to smacking their hand against the desk hard enough that the sound echoed down the hall.</p><p>            “If anything,” the vendor continued. “I should be paying <em>less</em> than that since you proved just how numerous these things – <em>and who are you?</em>”</p><p>            Quirrel paused mid step. “Just a traveler,” he told the vendor. “And a friend of –”<br/>            Upon noticing him, Ghost ran over, waving their arms around in a distressed way. They then pulled an empty bag from the depths of their cloak and waved that around too, intermittently pausing to point at it and then at the vendor.</p><p>            “Well, maybe you could help explain to your <em>friend</em> that it’s rude to haggle on prices,” the older bug grumbled.</p><p>            Ghost huffed and turned back to him. They stomped back to the front desk and went back to pointing from the artifacts on the table (Quirrel recognized some as part of the collection they’d shown him back in the archives) to their very empty bag of geo.</p><p>            “Perhaps we could all take a moment to talk things out,” Quirrel sighed. He wasn’t entirely sure of exactly what he’d wandered into, but the vendor looked about ready to kick everyone out of the shop and Ghost looked like they wanted to draw their nail. “To start, my name is Quirrel. Might I ask yours?”</p><p>            “Lemm,” the vendor said gruffly, still glaring at Ghost. “I’m in the business of buying any relics you might’ve picked up in your travels, but if you have something to sell, I’d suggest you talk fast; I’m <em>quite</em> ready to close shop for the day.”</p><p>            “Er, no, I don’t have anything to sell.” Quirrel wondered if Lemm knew that Ghost themself could be considered a relic of the kingdom. “I just…”</p><p>            He trailed off as he realized just how much history lined the walls of the little shop. Travelers’ journals and Hallownest seals took up a fair portion of the collection, but there were also carved idols of the king and a few surviving scrolls made of weaver silk. Shelves were crammed full of small trinkets and works of ancient art, some depicting the king’s five knights or other bugs of importance.</p><p>            Quirrel didn’t recognize everything he saw, but he felt like he was supposed to. It felt ridiculous, but everything from his past, the things he saw growing up and the mundane sights he saw while commuting to work, everything was considered a relic now. Everything he remembered was from a time long forgotten by <em>everyone</em>, not just himself.</p><p>            “Nothing here is for sale, so keep your hands to yourself,” Lemm growled, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m only in the business of <em>buying</em> artifacts, so if you don’t have any, you can leave.”</p><p>            Ghost paused in their pestering and looked to Quirrel, head tilted in what might have been curiosity or concern (or a mix of the two).</p><p>            “You have an impressive collection here,” Quirrel told the relic seeker. “Even the Teacher’s Archives haven’t given me such a clear understanding of Hallownest’s past.”</p><p>            A flash of green caught his eye, and he realized a lone tube of acid sat in the corner, half hidden by a very old-looking vase.</p><p>            Despite the hissed demand not to touch anything, he wandered over to the tube of acid and picked it up. Monomon’s shorthand was scrawled through the green that still glowed even when so far away from the archives.</p><p>            “Do you know the history of what you have here?” Quirrel wondered out loud. He’d been truthful when saying that the rest of Lemm’s collection was impressive, but the sight of the lone tube of acid felt sad. It wasn’t supposed to be there. Who stole Monomon’s words from her archives?</p><p>            “Of course I do!” Lemm exclaimed. “Those tubes are from the Teacher’s Archives and hold information recorded by Monomon herself. They are also quite fragile, so if you don’t mind, I would very much like you to <em>put that back where you found it</em> before you break something.”</p><p>            Ghost materialized at Quirrel’s side. They looked at him expectantly, waiting for the translation.</p><p>            “These are more notes on the vessels,” Quirrel said, and he wished he had his notes from the archives. “It’s written in the same coded format as the others, but I believe this pertains to the initial plans for their creation. It will take a moment for me to tell for sure, but it might name the location of their creation.”</p><p>            “And what makes you say that?” Lemm squinted at him warily, arms crossed over his chest as he stepped closer.</p><p>            “It’s about the vessels,” Quirrel repeated absentmindedly as he tried to do the necessary decoding in his head. “They truly were created to be perfectly empty beings, lacking any thought or will of their own, the idea being that the living emptiness of void would substitute such higher functions. The exact method of tying void to shell was known only by the king, but Monomon had theories on how he went about it. I just wish I knew where she stored those thoughts.”</p><p>            “You can read all that?” Lemm asked skeptically. His gaze was still scrutinizing, but it looked like his curiosity was keeping him from snapping again.</p><p>            “I can,” Quirrel told him. He wasn’t sure how to explain why. Then a thought crossed his mind. “Can you?”</p><p>            “Yes, but I’ve been studying the kingdom’s language and history for a long time now. However, even with all those years of research, I’ve never been able to make heads or tails of the gibberish stored within those tubes.”</p><p>            “Yes, it seems Monomon <em>really</em> didn’t want anyone else reading these. As frustrating as it is, I suppose I can understand why…” Even being one of his precious Dreamers, Monomon had been playing with fire, defying the king as she did.</p><p>            “Who did you say you were again?” Lemm said, still scowling.</p><p>            “Just a traveler.” It was true enough.</p><p>            “You seem to know a lot about the kingdom for <em>‘just a traveler’</em>.”</p><p>             “Before, I thought the same,” Quirrel replied and tried not to laugh at his own joke. “However, I promise you, I know very little outside of things having to do with the archives.” His inability to navigate the city would attest to that.</p><p>            Beside him, Ghost reached up and patted his hand. He wasn’t sure what they were trying to convey with the action, and they didn’t elaborate, withdrawing just as quickly and going still again.</p><p>            “You keep an impressively extensive collection of Hallownest’s history here,” Quirrel said again. He carefully scanned the surrounding shelves, but couldn’t find what he was looking for. “Do you have any artifacts pertaining to the infection?” He carefully stepped around Ghost and set the acid tube on the counter. Despite a valiant effort to do without, he’d need to find parchment and a quill in order to properly decode it. “Or the old moth tribes? Or anything else having to do with the vessels and their creation?”</p><p>            “Now hold on just a minute!” Lemm exclaimed. “You have a lot of nerve, showing up here and touching what isn’t yours and making demands without so much as an explanation.”</p><p>            “Ah, apologies, my friend. I’m getting ahead of myself.” Quirrel felt that, between the two, he had a better claim of ownership to Monomon’s notes than Lemm did, but the rest of the relic seeker’s words were fair. “The infection that plagues this land worsens, and I’m searching for a way to stop it. My search for information has been fruitless thus far, and I was hoping you might have found something that could help me better understand its nature.”</p><p>            Lemm snorted. “How noble of you. You come a long way just to save all the poor folk still hanging around these ruins?”</p><p>            “Er, no, that’s not exactly –"</p><p>            “I’m not one for idle chatter, traveler,” Lemm sighed, his voice a mix of exhaustion and irritation. “Unless you’re here to talk history, I’d much rather you show yourself out.”</p><p>            Quirrel glanced at Ghost. Though it could take a while, he was willing to admit his own connection to Hallownest’s history, but he wasn’t sure what they thought. After all, half of his story had to do with theirs.</p><p>            Ghost shrugged. They gestured for him to go ahead.</p><p>            Though he liked to think he’d done a decent job of coming to terms with the strange circumstances surrounding his life, Quirrel found there was nothing as jarring as saying everything out loud. The more he talked, the more ridiculous his story sounded, even though he knew every word to be truth.</p><p>            Understandably, Lemm didn’t believe him at first. The relic seeker was a skeptical but curious being, interrupting every few moments to ask questions or express exactly how crazy Quirrel sounded as he spoke. Still, once his initial doubt faded, he listened.</p><p>            Ghost made no attempt to add to Quirrel’s explanation. He deliberately left their role in things vague, letting them decide how much they wanted to reveal, but they remained still and silent.</p><p>            In the end, the details of their involvement were unnecessary. Quirrel wasn’t sure if Lemm truly believed him or if the relic seeker was just interested in his knowledge of the kingdom’s past (as limited as it was).</p><p>            Whatever the reason, it didn’t really matter. Either way, Lemm was a bit more amenable to sharing his collection of historical artifacts after realizing he had a walking, talking encyclopedia on Hallownest before its fall.</p><p>            “If you’re serious about studying the artifacts I have, you might as well come with me into the back,” Lemm said gruffly. “I keep the more delicate pieces of my collection there.” He shut the door to the hall and then led the way to another door that was half hidden behind a bookshelf full of wanderers’ journals.</p><p>            “That would be wonderful, thank you.” Quirrel told him. Really, he was just glad the relic seeker no longer looked like he was about to strangle him.</p><p>            Before either could go much further than a step, they were interrupted by Ghost tapping insistently at the counter again. They gestured pointedly to the pile of seals and idols they’d set there.</p><p>            “Yes, yes,” Lemm huffed. “I’ll pay you for your trinkets in a minute.”</p><p>            The tapping grew louder.</p><p>            “And I’ll be paying the amount I told you earlier, not a single geo more!”</p><p>            “I admit, it’s surprising to hear you’re having money troubles,” Quirrel commented as Lemm grudgingly led the way to the backroom. “Then again, I don’t doubt the Nailsmith charged you a fair amount for the work he’s done.”</p><p>            Ghost shook their head sharply and waved a hand in an aggressive manner.</p><p>            “Not the Nailsmith then?”</p><p>            They shook their head again. They brought out their empty geo bag and gestured angrily to it.</p><p>            “Stolen?” Quirrel tried very hard not to laugh. Their distress wasn’t runny, but the image of someone attempting to steal from <em>Ghost</em>, of all beings, was absolutely ridiculous.</p><p>            A nod. They put their geo bag away and gave a frustrated huff, arms crossed over their chest.</p><p>            Whoever the thief was, wyrm help them when Ghost finally tracked them down.</p><p>            “If you two are quite done,” Lemm interjected. “I thought you were here for research purposes.”</p><p>            The backroom held even more relics, most even more ancient and rare than the ones displayed in front. Several damaged silk and parchment scrolls were preserved carefully behind glass, three ancient nails were displayed on a metal stand, what looked to be a stone egg sat on a desk.</p><p>            Lemm cleared some loose papers off a table. “You can set that here. Don’t drop it.”</p><p>            Though he knew very well how to handle the acid tubes without damaging them, Quirrel made a show of carefully setting the tube of acid down. No sense in agitating an already reluctant host. “Ghost,” he said. “I don’t suppose I could borrow some parchment and a quill from you?”</p><p>            They nodded and withdrew both from their cloak.</p><p>            “Thank you. I wish I’d thought to bring my own, but between the acidic air and rain, I didn’t think they would survive the trip from the archives.”</p><p>            Ghost patted his shoulder and retrieved a small bottle of ink.</p><p>            “You asked about the infection and the moth tribes,” Lemm continued after a long moment of silence. “The infection that led to the downfall of the kingdom has been mysteriously difficult to research, so I don’t really have anything on that. As far as I know, no one does.”</p><p>            “I’ve noticed. Even the Teacher’s Archives has very little documentation of its existence.”</p><p>            “Well, I suppose it <em>was</em> the end of the kingdom’s days. Either way, I’m afraid I can’t help you there. However, I do have a few relics from the moths. Being a group that existed long before Hallownest and hen integrated so fully into the kingdom during its early days, artifacts from the moth tribes are hard to come by.”</p><p>            Ghost hopped up onto the table close to where Quirrel was scratching out a more coherent version of the notes held within the acid. They pulled out the dream nail and held it up to him.</p><p>            “I realize I never asked you where you found that,” Quirrel noted.</p><p>            They began pulling out their map when Lemm noticed the item in their hand.</p><p>            “A dream nail, eh?” He approached the table and scowled when he noticed Ghost sitting on it. “They were hard to come by, even before the kingdom took over their lands. Ancient texts suggest that only their shamans were allowed to own such a thing, and even then, they were rare. I’ll admit that your find is an impressive one. You rob a tomb or something?”</p><p>            Ghost shook their head indignantly. They opened their map and forcefully pointed to a specific place within the Resting Grounds. Then they reached for a piece of parchment, probably intending to elaborate.</p><p>            Lemm beat them to it.</p><p>            “While I haven’t been up that way myself, I hear the Resting Grounds are all that remains of the moths’ old territory. It’s where they buried their dead, so I imagine if one of their shamans does remain, you would find them there.”</p><p>            “Is that where you got it?” Quirrel asked, looking to Ghost.</p><p>            They gave a stiff nod and plucked the quill from his hand. They wrote a single word on a blank piece of parchment and then handed it back.</p><p>
  <em>‘           'Seer.’</em>
</p><p>            “Hmm, that’s right,” Lemm mused, scowling at the way Ghost continued to sit on the table. “They referred to their spiritual leaders as ‘seers’.” He looked like he was going to reprimand them, but then changed his mind. “As artifacts go, I don’t think I’ve ever heard reports of a dream nail being recovered before. I would be willing to pay more than a fair sum, should you be willing to part with it.”</p><p>            Ghost recoiled so strongly that Quirrel reached out to steady them before they fell off the table.</p><p>            “No need to be so twitchy,” Lemm sighed. “I’m a historian, not a thief.”</p><p>            Ghost didn’t seem so sure.</p><p>            “I didn’t realize that any from the tribe still remained,” Quirrel said quickly. As far as he knew, the old tribes were annexed by the kingdom in the early days and no longer existed as a separate group. Was the common version of history wrong, or did a single moth survive from ancient times? He figured anything was possible at that point. “Perhaps our time would be better spent speaking with them.”</p><p>            Ghost shrugged. They took the quill back, writing more before returning it again.</p><p>
  <em>            ‘Need more essence.’</em>
</p><p>            “Essence?”</p><p>            “The material the moths believed makes up the fabric of dreams and spirits,” Lemm explained. His offer denied, he went around the table again, pausing to rearrange a few trinkets that lined a nearby shelf. “They believed it could power relics such as the dream nail, and based on what you told me, they were right. I believed it all to be little more than superstition until now.”</p><p>            “Oh, it’s very real,” Quirrel sighed. He tried not to think about when Ghost used the dream nail to read his mind back at Crystal Peak.</p><p>            Beside him, they resolutely stared at the dream nail as they turned it over in their hands. Maybe they were thinking about it too.</p><p>            They still hadn’t told him exactly what had been going through their head back then.</p><p>            Lemm wandered over to a closet that was overflowing with random pieces of Hallownest’s history. He sifted through portraits and statues and a few ancient-looking tools, searching for something. “As artifacts go, I don’t usually get things from that part of the kingdom,” he said. “Most bugs heading that way are going for the colosseum. As you can imagine, not many make it back.”</p><p>            Ghost went still and Quirrel remembered them telling him of a tragedy that occurred there.</p><p>            Before he could think of what to say to them (or if he should say anything at all), Lemm returned, holding a shield that was shaped like the flower-like pattern carved into the dream nail. “A traveler sold this to me a while back,” he said. “The moths were known as pacifists. As far as I know, no true weapons of theirs have ever been found, and this is one of very few shields that have been discovered. Not sure if it tells you anything useful, but it’s an incredible find either way.”</p><p>            Quirrel was about to agree when Ghost suddenly slammed their journal down onto the table, making him jump.</p><p>            “Markoth?” he read, looking at them in confusion. He didn’t recall them saying anything about him before.</p><p>            “Allegedly, he was the only moth to take up arms,” Lemm said, leaning the shield against the table. “That’s all that’s been written about him. I guess he disappeared somewhere in Kingdom’s Edge. I’m not sure if this shield could have belonged to him, but given how rare they are, it’s not an unreasonable to think that it might have.”</p><p>            Ghost gave a vicious nod and mimed slashing with a nail.</p><p>            So, they fought him too? Perhaps the dream nail made it possible. Quirrel wasn’t sure of the relation between death and dreams (maybe death was just one eternal dream?) but it was the most logical explanation he could think of.</p><p>            “The other moth tribe artifact I have is of the god they worshipped.” Lemm handed over an ancient piece of parchment carefully set in a glass frame. Even with the obvious care put into its preservation, the paper was thin and faded, crumbling around the edges. “Nothing as fancy as a king’s idol, but resilient enough to remain intact all this time. As far as I know, it still stands at the top of Crystal Peak.”</p><p>            Quirrel took the frame from the other bug and tried to determine if the image before him was something he remembered from his past life (he’d been a bit… distracted on his more recent trip to Crystal Peak). Carved out of stone was the vague likeness of a bug, though it wasn’t a species he recognized.</p><p>            “They called it the Radiance and believed it to be some kind of god that ruled over dreams and light,” Lemm continued. “Which, of course, are the same elements associated with the infection that took over the kingdom. I wouldn’t attribute the fall of the kingdom to such nonsense as gods, but it would be foolish to assume such a likeness to be coincidence. I’d say it’s more likely the infection was brought over by some sickly group of travelers or accidentally created from the experiments conducted in the Soul Sanctum, but there isn’t any evidence to prove or disprove the theory.”</p><p>            Ghost scrambled back up onto the counter so they could peer at the image sketched in ancient ink.</p><p>            “Would you <em>please</em> get down from there?” Lemm growled. “See if I ever let <em>you</em> into my shop again!”</p><p>            He was ignored as Ghost leaned closer, balanced precariously on the edge of the table and bracing their hands against Quirrel’s shoulder so they didn’t just fall over.</p><p>            “I can just hand it to you…” Quirrel tried, but then Ghost was pulling away and pointing again to their map.</p><p>            “You’ve seen it?” Lemm said. He didn’t sound particularly impressed.</p><p>            Ghost nodded thoughtfully. Their next move was to jump off the table and gather their belongings. They headed for the door without any attempt at explanation.</p><p>            Why so abrupt? Did something change?</p><p>            Though their last visit to the archives wasn’t very long ago, Quirrel was disappointed to see them go.</p><p>            “Did you change your mind about selling those seals and idols to me?” Lemm asked the retreating vessel.</p><p>            Ghost paused but didn’t acknowledge the relic seeker; they were looking at a small ominous-looking statue by the door.</p><p>            Quirrel had seen a few larger structures of similar design strewn throughout the kingdom. Even with his slowly repairing memories, he didn’t know what their significance was. They didn’t look to be made by any artisan of Hallownest, the black stone much older than anything made during the king’s rule. The closest comparison that came to mind was the Temple of the Black Egg.</p><p>            It didn’t surprise him that Ghost knew what they did, though he was nearly as alarmed as Lemm was when they struck it with their nail. Light burst into the air when the blade made contact and then swiftly disappeared.</p><p>            “<em>What are you doing???</em>” Lemm demanded, racing over to where the small vessel stood.</p><p>            They pointed to the statue with one hand. The dark stone didn’t have a single scratch on it. Ghost struck it again, and still there was no evidence of their nail making contact aside from the <em>clink</em> of metal against stone.</p><p>            More white light was released into the air. It lingered for a moment, small glowing particles lighting up the dim room before drifting toward Ghost and disappearing upon contact with the vessel’s shell.</p><p>            “They contain soul,” Quirrel observed before Lemm could yell some more. “I’ve seen several throughout the kingdom but hadn’t realized.”</p><p>            “And you never would have,” Lemm muttered. He looked torn between being angry and fascinated. “Their ability to hold soul has been recorded through stone tablets and artistic depictions from the same time period. I’ve never seen nor heard of one in recent times giving up the soul it stores. This particular piece was struck again and again during my attempt to drag it here, and it’s never done that before.”</p><p>            “Perhaps it requires the metal of a nail, or something of similar sharpness,” Quirrel suggested. Then his gaze went to where Ghost was idly poking at the statue.</p><p>            Maybe it only reacted to vessels? He’d seen them use forms of soul magic before. Other bugs could do similar if they had the right training, but none with so much control as Ghost had over their abilities.</p><p>            “These artifacts are especially interesting to historians,” Lemm said. “They’re some of the last few remnants of whatever was here before Hallownest. The stone they’re made of can’t be found elsewhere. As you saw, it’s incredibly durable, which is probably why they survived for so long. This is the only one I found that could be moved.”</p><p>            “I’ve never heard of the civilization these relics belong to,” Quirrel said. “Even within Monomon’s personal collection of information, Hallownest’s history remains sparse, let alone whatever existed before. What else do you know of it?”</p><p>            “Unfortunately, very little. Those ancient bugs lived long before Hallownest or the moth tribes. They surrounded themselves in darkness, preserving their secrets within shadow and stone.”</p><p>            So, they worshipped the void itself. If that was the case, maybe the statue really was reacting specifically to Ghost. How else might the two be related? Could the connection between void and statue and soul lead to some more insight into how the vessels came into being? Or the nature of the substance that made up so much of their composition? Perhaps the king chose to use void for another reason beside its ‘living emptiness’.</p><p>            “They’re similar to arcane eggs in that sense,” Lemm continued. “They come from similar times, though the eggs contain more information.”</p><p>            “How do you mean?”</p><p>            “Historians generally agree that they were used as a way to record information in the way we use stone tablets or parchment. The trouble is getting the things to open without destroying whatever’s inside.” Lemm nodded to the worktable. “I’ve been chipping away at the one the little vagabond brought in a while ago.”</p><p>            Speaking of Ghost, when the statue failed to give more soul, they seemed to lose interest in both it and the conversation. They offered a wave and a nod before again heading for the door.</p><p>            “Guess they did change their mind about selling to me,” Lemm grumbled as Ghost returned to the front of the shop. They didn’t even pause to recollect their artifacts, instead dashing out the door and into the hall beyond.</p><p>            “I’m sure they’ll be back,” Quirrel said. They’d been so insistent about it earlier that he had little doubt they’d try again whenever it next crossed their mind. “Truthfully, I should probably be on my way soon as well. You’ve been a great help, relic seeker. Thank you for letting us learn from the knowledge you’ve accumulated here.”</p><p>            “Oh no you don’t,” Lemm huffed. “I didn’t allow you and that little wanderer back here just out of the goodness of my heart. I told you, I’m in the business of buying relics of Hallownest’s history, and I let you come in here and look through my collection. You claim yourself to have been alive before the fall of the kingdom, and at the very least, you have <em>some</em> knowledge of the time. I have questions.”</p><p>            Quirrel figured he probably should’ve seen that coming. “That’s a fair trade. I don’t intend to take advantage of your kindness; I’m willing to tell you what I can, but I did mention that my memory remains to be incomplete.”</p><p>           “Yes, I heard you. Believe me, I don’t think you to be some infallible historical reference. At the very least, I assumed you’d clean up the mess of papers you flung all over my table.”</p><p>            “Ah, right.” Quirrel glanced back to his half-finished translation. With the surviving moth seer being a better lead on information pertaining directly to the infection (Lemm might not believe in gods, but Quirrel had seen far too much to write off the possibility), he’d nearly forgotten about the added information on the vessels. He made his way back to the table. “I suppose I could give you the translated version of Monomon’s notes when I finish it.”</p><p>            Lemm followed him. “You could do one better and teach me how the teacher’s code works.”</p><p>            “I would if I could,” Quirrel told him. It was a lie, but the point was moot. “Unfortunately, I don’t know how to explain how her shorthand works. I’m fairly certain <em>I</em> wasn’t even supposed to know, and I’m not sure how I learned.”</p><p>            “And yet you can still read it.” The skeptical note had returned to Lemm’s voice.</p><p>            “My understanding tends to return in pieces. The process and reasoning behind what I know are often still hazy, if I can recall anything at all.” He retrieved the paper he’d been using and reached for the quill. In their hast to get back to whatever they were doing, Ghost had left it behind along with their inkwell and the rest of their parchment. He should probably return them to them if he got the chance.</p><p>            “Of course.” Lemm sounded like he was beginning to regret asking Quirrel to stay. “Well, would you like to begin with what you’ve translated so far?”</p><p>            He could, though given the subject, he’d prefer if Ghost were around to give their input. They hadn’t seemed keen on sharing their role in Hallownest’s history when he explained his own to Lemm.</p><p>            “These notes have to do with the Pale King’s vessel project,” he said, reading over his own writing. “Specifically, the initial idea he’d had for them.” The impossible model he’d wanted them to fit.</p><p>            “You said as much before, though you never elaborated on what you mean by that.”</p><p>            “Which part?”</p><p>            “You asked about information on the ‘vessels’ earlier, but I’ve never heard of them.” Lemm grabbed a chair from a nearby desk and dragged it over to the table, taking a seat and watching warily. “And now you say they’re some kind of project of Hallownest’s king.”</p><p>            And Quirrel somewhat regretted saying as much.</p><p>            “It was a well-kept secret of the Pale King,” he said slowly. After spending so much time with Ghost (and the recent encounters with Hornet), he’d nearly forgotten that the existence of the vessels was far from common knowledge. “My proximity to the teacher gave me some insight, but even <em>she</em> wasn’t supposed to know all she did, and even then, she didn’t know everything.”</p><p>            “The king was known for being a secretive recluse,” Lemm agreed.</p><p>            “The vessels were his attempt at stopping the infection. They were intended to be artificial beings that lacked a mind or will of their own, living void contained by a shell and designed to contain the infection. The fountain in the courtyard here, the memorial to the Hollow Knight, depicts the vessel chosen to fulfill that purpose. Even after scouring the archives, That’s about all I know about the project.” As long as he didn’t name Ghost as a part of it, maybe they wouldn’t mind him sharing what he knew.</p><p>            As grouchy as Lemm was, there was no denying he knew a lot about the kingdom’s past, certainly in greater detail than Quirrel did. His input could only help.</p><p>            However, Lemm went very quiet. He frowned pensively, gaze directed at nothing in particular. Then he stood and retrieved something from a locked desk drawer.</p><p>            “Perhaps you know more than you realize,” Quirrel commented, intrigued at the sudden shift.</p><p>            “Not about the vessels or Hollow Knight,” Lemm told him. When he returned to the table, he was holding another framed image. “But the void is continually mentioned throughout history about as often as the light. As with the moths’ Radiance, I figured the living properties of the void to be little more than legend and superstition. However, if Hallownest’s king found a way to harness the shade, perhaps this depiction means more than just the imagined deity of an ancient civilization.”</p><p>            The drawing Lemm handed over depicted a mass of darkness with bright eyes and tendrils of shadow that surrounded the main body around like thorny brambles.</p><p>            Quirrel thought again of Ghost, and the shadows that trailed from their cloak as they dashed through solid mass. He thought of the shell-shattering scream that accompanied dark forms rising from the depths, or the black that rippled outward like liquid shadow. The all-consuming darkness of the black egg that nearly killed him while Ghost had stood as if they belonged there.</p><p>            “You said that the ancients who lived here before Hallownest worshipped the darkness itself, the void,” he said.</p><p>            “I did.”</p><p>            “What else do you know about them?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I like Lemm, specifically his voice. I also think he's easy to annoy and for some reason that amuses me<br/>Markoth is the bane of my existence. His fight is cool, but I'm very bad at it.<br/>I love the void as a concept. I might explore the idea of the 'living darkness' some more later</p><p> </p><p>To be perfectly honest, I have no idea what happened with this chapter. There's more, but it'll be put in the next chapter since this one got surprisingly long really fast. Hope you don't mind all the rambling and speculation.<br/>I'm still pretty happy with things, but like, I barely remember writing this</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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